#amieilya

[nvvermore]

suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

idk what shading is anymore im still learning procreate and they only gave me six layers for a canvas this big

#amaryllis leroux #julian devorak #amieilya #apprentice amaryllis #the arcana #fan apprentice #nvverart #my art #amie art

[nvvermore]

I Always Will

for Amaryllis, nothing goes as planned

[part twelve of Come What May]

words: 3k

cw: memory loss

accompaniment

Last night, Amaryllis and Julian went their separate ways at the edge of the forest.

“We’ll start over fresh tomorrow, with the new information that we have,” Amaryllis’s voice cut through the pouring rain. “Let’s meet at Portia’s after breakfast. Au revoir.”

Amaryllis had lost track of the time they spent aimlessly wandering around the palace gardens, mind lost in thought.

How it could be so easy for Julian’s memory to return, but that they were in a constant fight to regain even just the smallest hint of theirs. After all he did, they still helped him, and he couldn't even be bothered to offer them anything in return.

Julian’s refusal at least confirmed one thing in their mind.

The two did in fact, mean something to each other before.

-☽☼☾-

Now, Amaryllis sits at Portia’s dining table, listening to Julian prattle on about his recovered memory.

That back then, when Lucio was infected, Julian was working diligently on a cure.

“I was down there that night, working, but Lucio was convinced I wasn't working fast enough. He locked me inside and I, well—“ In a flash, he pulls off his eyepatch to finally reveal his eye. It isn't just an empty socket, as he’d implied before. It’s all there, and even appears to have vision, but the sclera of it is a deep red, just like that of the victims of the plague. “I was dying. But the cure worked, and it could still be down there in that dungeon.”

From his coat pocket, he pulls out the skeleton key, and a folded up paper. “I thought long and hard last night, and this is what helped me make sense of it all,” Julian says, gazing down solemnly at the paper. They recognize it as the one that fell from the pages of the grimoire hidden away in their room.

“Then perhaps if you'd have let me read my own writings, we could have come to this conclusion sooner,” Amaryllis says. From the corner of their eye, they can see Portia give them a pointed look.

“Well, it sounds like you two need to go down to that dungeon.” Portia diverts back to the real subject at hand. “We’re running out of time, with how close the masquerade is. Luckly, the countess will be quite distracted today, as some of her sisters are arriving from Praka. So you have the perfect opportunity to go searching.”

Amaryllis glances over to Julian, expecting to see him putting on his classic brave façade, but instead finds him already looking back at them, uncertainty casting a cloud over his features.

“Then by all means, Julian, lead the way.”

“But first!” Portia interjects. “Ilya, you need a good disguise! I have some spare staff uniforms I snagged for the occasion. You can play the part, can’t you?”

“I suppose that could work,” Julian murmurs, mind obviously still somewhere else.

“Actually, I have a different idea. I'd rather not have any missteps, so I’ll use another glamour spell on you.”

“The same one as before?”

“No. This one will be much different.”

Amaryllis murmurs a quick incantation, and in moments before everyone's eyes he turns from a towering, lanky man, into a petite young girl.

“Oh my, Ilya look at you! How cute!” Portia squeals. “Amie, who is he supposed to be? She’s a beauty, for sure.”

“My ward, Ophélie. Julian is familiar with her,” they explain to her. “My first thought was Asra or Vesper, but I can't risk the real ones appearing while he’s disguised. She’s quite unlikely to make an appearance here, so If we run into anyone we shouldn't, it will be easy to explain why she’s with me.” Amaryllis turns to Julian, who's looking at his new appearance in a mirror on the wall. “And the two of you are just alike— you won't have to pretend to be anyone else.”

Amaryllis watches as Julian reaches up to cup his—Ophélie’s— face. “We are just alike, aren't we?” he says longingly. “She’s gotten quite big in the last few years, hasn't she?”

“You remember her?”

“Bits and pieces. Enough to put together what it is I've missed.”

“Well, the sooner we get this excursion over with, the sooner you can go see her for yourself. She’d love nothing more than a visit from you.”

-☽☼☾-

Julian claims to remember the entrance to the dungeons being located somewhere in the library.

With him disguised as Ophélie, the two were able to waltz right through the halls of the palace without a hitch.

“It was a secret passage. A book! I remember… red… gold?” Julian mutters, through Ophélie’s much higher voice, pulling at almost any book on the shelf he can find.

Finally, he pulls on a book bound in deep red leather with golden accents, just as predicted, and the shelf whirls to life, pulling away from the wall to reveal a dark, unlit passage.

Amaryllis summons a flame in the palm of their hand. They find themself far more wary of the flame than the ominous tunnel that lies ahead.

“Down we go?”

Julian only nods. They half expected him to fight back against them going too.

Amaryllis takes the first step, Julian close behind, dropping the glamour as they start to descend.

It’s a long, winding stairwell full of uneven steps. The further the two of them go, the brighter Amaryllis casts the flame. It’s eerie, but their discomfort at what they might find only grows when they sense a headache coming on.

Julian is uncharacteristically quiet, possibly too quiet.

Eventually, after what feels like several stories down, the steps end and they find themselves in a dirty, dimly lit clearing. There’s an old, rickety looking lift directly before them. Crimson light leaks from underneath it, likely coming from wherever the contraption leads to. A gate locks it away, made out of old and rusted wrought iron.

Amaryllis sends the flame they're holding into the rest of the room, lighting the worn torches mounted upon the walls.

Julian— fully himself once more— takes a few hesitant steps closer to the gate, a gloved hand reaching up to wipe at the iron plate in the center of it.

“This… I know this. It’s an old nightmare.”

Amaryllis joins him at his side.

There’s an inscription, along with a keyhole

“Bloody hands may turn the key. Know the weight of your sins, and enter,” they recite.

Julian pulls the skeleton key from his coat. “Well, this is it.”

Quickly, Amaryllis snatches the key from his grasp.

“We turn the key together, or not at all. Your innocence has been vouched for, I don't need you coming up with any other crimes before we have our proof.”

Julian seems to know better than to argue with them at this moment in time. He nods, an uneasy grin on his face, and his hand wraps around Amaryllis’s.

The lock turns over without a hitch. The gate snaps open with a horrible screech.

“Either we’re both just as guilty, or it's bullshit.” Amaryllis’s words don't seem to offer Julian any comfort. He stares down at his hands, cradling the key. He's filled with dread, from his expression to the way he holds his shoulders. There's a tremor running through him, they hear his breathing quicken. Against their better judgment, they take his hands in theirs, steadying him.

Amaryllis has been cruel to him, they know it. They could help it, they've considered that, instead of pushing him away they could have pulled him closer despite his protests. Their attitude might not have made his self-loathing any worse than it was, but it certainly hasn’t helped.

Julian gasps when Amaryllis touches him, like their comfort was the last thing he was expecting. He leans into them, burrowing his head into their shoulder, hands still clasped. “Amaryllis…” His voice still trembles. “I've been asking myself a question, over and over, since last night. If I didn't kill the Count, what am I guilty of? I've forgotten so much. Even though my memories are coming back…” He exhales against their neck, deep and shaky. “I think I know what it is. I think I’ve known since the letter I found tucked away in the book hidden in your room. If it’s true, I don't know how— I know it would be worse than if I was simply guilty of killing Lucio. I’m afraid that my crimes are here. At the bottom of this pit.”

“And what of mine, Julian? I have no memories, I have the same mark as you. Lucio’s own ghost accused me of his murder. According to your own standards, I’m just as guilty as you claim to be. What if we go down there and there’s no evidence of whatever crime it is you think you've done, but piles against me, what then?”

“I’ll still take the fall.”

“That’s not what I’m asking of you, but it proves my point. Why have you been so quick to judge yourself so harshly for the same thing you’d accept me as is for? You can't tell me it's different, because it’s not.”

Julian takes another deep breath, but this time it's steady and sure. His head turns, and then suddenly his lips are on theirs. Amaryllis kisses him back as his hands find their face, cupping their jaw and pulling them as close as he possibly can. They missed this, even if they only had it for a short moment and it had only been gone just as long. It feels so familiar, and they're so enraptured in the comfort he brings, that they don't notice the slight way Julian turns the two of them. They don't think anything of it when Julian’s hands slide back down to grasp their shoulders.

Amaryllis only realizes that they've made a mistake at all once Julian is already pulling away from them. He pushes them away gently, catching them off guard and sending them a few steps back. Before they can make sense of it, he’s already locked himself away in the lift.

They scramble forward to the gate, prying at the bars, but it’s locked itself once more, and they don't have the key.

“Julian!” they shout, fingers wrapping around the rusted bars.

“I’m sorry.” There's a look of genuine remorse in his eye, but he stands tall, confident in the choice he's made. “For what it’s worth, thank you, Amie. I’ve done a lot of things I regret. Things I remember, and, I’m sure, things I forgot. But I don't, I couldn't possibly regret meeting you. Every moment I have with you is a blessing. I want you to know, I… I want a future with you. I always have. More than anything. I’ll find some way for that to happen, to make you forgive me for everything. I promise.”

“Why are you making this sound like a goodbye?”

“I’ll see you soon.” Julian pulls the lever and the lift comes to life with a screeching of gears.

Amaryllis watches it take him down, still pressed against the bars of the gate, until the red glow consumes every last bit of him.

-☽☼☾-

As soon as Amaryllis is back into the palace proper, they rush to find Portia. It’s about midafternoon, the sunlight flooding through all the magnificently crafted windows is jarring when they first come up from the cavern. The halls are bustling, with all sorts of servants bussing about, cleaning and decorating. They stop to ask a few familiar faces if they've seen Portia lately, most have no answer, and a few look at them like they've just seen a ghost.

They haven't managed to compose themself by the time they finally stumble upon Nadia’s parlor. Determined, they push open the double doors and step into the room.

“Has anyone seen Portia?” Amaryllis doesn't bother waiting for the conversation they're certainly interrupting to be finished, doesn’t wait for their presence to be announced.

“Amaryllis?” Nadia questions, sat at the organ across the room. “You look a mess, what's happened?” They scan the room, no Portia to be found. But Asra is there— dressed to the nines in an outfit Nadia must have gifted him— along with several others who look far too similar to Nadia to not be related.

Asra shoots up from where he’s seated, almost spilling his cup of tea when he sets it down on the table. “Amie, what’s wrong?” He rushes over to them, thumb reaching up to brush something away from their cheek before his hands settle on their arms. He has the same look of genuine concern on his face as he does when he's waking them from yet another nightmare.

“Nothing, just… investigating.” Amaryllis clears their throat. “I apologize for the interruption. Is Portia around?”

“Her and I were quite busy most of the day with masquerade planning. She’s been wearing herself thin lately, and looked awfully tired. I— gently— ordered her to go home and get some rest until dinner.” Nadia explains, rising herself and stepping towards them. “You seem a little fatigued yourself, Amaryllis...” For a moment, they're worried Nadia is suspicious of them, but one look at her tells them she’s nothing short of a concerned friend at the moment.

“Nadi, why don't I take Amie back to their room to get cleaned up, maybe rest a little.” Asra suggests. Amaryllis can only nod, too embarrassed to admit that they really do need his comfort right now.

“I believe that is a wonderful idea. Perhaps if you're feeling well enough after, I could have the chance to properly introduce you to my sisters.”

Asra thanks Nadia and bids farewell to the room, and spins them around, leading them out the door and through the busy halls with an arm around their shoulder.

The walk to Amaryllis’s room is quiet. Faust pops out from Asra’s collar to greet them with a snake kiss on the cheek, and then disappears right back into the fabric.

No one speaks when they enter the room. Asra simply sits them down on the chaise, disappears for a moment, and then returns with a glass of water, helping them to drink. They didn't realize they had the taste of that cavern stuck in their throat until now. He leaves again, and Amaryllis vaguely registers the opening and shutting of cabinets. This time he returns with a damp cloth, wiping at their face once more, careful to be gentle around their scar.

“I've noticed you've stopped wearing your veil lately.” Asra finally speaks up, and it isn't what they were expecting him to say at all.

“I just haven't felt the need. I don't know why I ever did at all.” He takes their hands, and they look down at them, finally realizing they're covered in all sorts of dirt and rust from the cavern. No wonder every person they'd come across on their way looked at them funny.

Asra sets the cloth to the side and leans down, unlacing their boots, slipping them off one by one. He stands them up. “Come on, let's get you changed.”

And Amaryllis lets him lead them across the room, stands patiently as he unlaces their gown and switches it out for a clean nightgown. Lets him sit them down at the vanity where he goes to work brushing out their hair, as he braids it back out of their face. It's been years since Amaryllis has allowed him to care for them so closely, but once upon a time it was all they knew.

But right now, Asra is exactly what they need, and they'd be a fool to push him away.

-☽☼☾-

The sun has already set when Amaryllis wakes. They don't remember falling asleep, and they barely remember how they got in bed at all. They know Asra— nowhere to be found— was here. They know they stormed into Nadia’s parlor unannounced. They were looking for Portia because Julian—

Julian.

Amaryllis throws the duvet back and rushes out of bed, into the main room. Their panic rouses Styx, who’d been sleeping away on his perch in the corner this whole time.

“Amma?”

“Where is he, Styx? Has he come back yet?” they ask aloud to their familiar.

“Has who come back yet?” Asra’s sitting in the armchair, rising as they come rushing into the room.

“Julian.” Amaryllis tells him, as if they could be worried about anyone else at the moment.

“I don't think so.” Styx’s response echoes in their mind.

“Amie, slow down. Now that you seem to be yourself again, why don't you tell me what happened?”

“His memories are returning. We found the lift down to the dungeons. We were supposed to go down together but he went down alone instead. He was terrified about what he would find down there, what evidence he'd find of his crimes— of mine. I have to find another way down there.”

“Your crimes? Amaryllis, what are you talking about?”

“Lucio’s back. He told me I'm not innocent in his death. If Julian finds something that can prove I killed Lucio, he’s going to try to take the fall anyways.”

Asra sits back down, taking a deep breath and running his hands through his curls. “I know the dungeons. He’s fine, I promise. He’s not going to find what he thinks he will down there.”

“Then what is it he’ll find?”

“Answers. But I don't know if they'll make any sense to him.”

Amaryllis doesn't bother questioning Asra any further, but they're still uneasy and they're sure he knows it. He stands and approaches them, taking their hands. “He’s fine. He’ll find his way back up if he already hasn’t by now, and tomorrow you can track him down and continue sneaking him around the palace while I keep Nadia looking the other way.”

“That’s why you showed up here?”

“I had my suspicions, and I thought it was finally time to visit Nadi.” Asra gives their hands a squeeze. “Ilya is just… being Ilya, unfortunately.”

Amaryllis rolls their eyes. “Don't I know it.”

“I know I've been harsh when it concerns him. I’m sorry.”

“No, I don't blame you. I've said a lot of cruel things to him in the past couple days.”

“Oh really? Ilya finally got an earful from you?” Asra bites back a laugh.

“He makes it hard not to.”

“Well, I think you deserve not to dwell on him for a little while. Nadia sent for us to join her and her sisters in the ballroom, what do you say?”

-☽☼☾-

Asra spins Amaryllis around the ballroom. They can’t remember a time where the two of them ever danced together, but having him as a partner feels natural, like they've done this a billion times before.

“Nine years.” he whispers against their ear. Amaryllis isn't surprised to learn that they’ve known Asra for a third of their life.

“If I’ve known you that long, how long have I known Julian?” Amaryllis asks, surprised to find that Asra doesn't falter.

“It’s weird to hear you call him that, you know.”

“What else would I call him?”

“Ilya. That's what you knew him as, how you introduced him to me.” The two step effortlessly in time to the music Nadia and her sisters are playing, a routine forming out of thin air. “But you've known him longer than me. At least ten years, I think.”

Amaryllis doesn't know how to respond, and shouldn't have brought Julian up in the first place. They were having a nice time, but now anxiety is starting to creep back in. Asra must sense it, because he twirls them again and flourishes it by dipping them low, wrapping their leg around his waist.

The song being played changes to a slower ballad then, and Amaryllis rises slowly, keeping their leg hooked on Asra’s hip.

“Another dance?” Amaryllis drops their leg, no answer needed from Asra to know he would. Not with the way he’s looking at them now. They take his arms, guiding them up to their shoulders, while their hands go down to rest on his waist. Amaryllis leads them, swaying gently to the music. “How different am I now? Am I still the same person I was before?”

“Hauntingly so.” Asra breaks from his daze. “You're the exact same Amie I knew and…”

“And what?”

“…And loved. Love.”

Amaryllis breaks the rhythm they'd fallen into, standing still on the dancefloor, music still swirling around them.

“Why now, Asra?”

“I just thought you should hear it. I know you know, and I know we missed our chance, but I've never told you—“

Amaryllis cuts him off. “I woke up loving you, it was my first coherent thought.”

“But?” His expression isn’t hopeful, just, curious.

The music and their conversation is cut short when Styx comes flying in from the outside veranda, screeching.

“Amma! It’s Julian!”

#the arcana #the arcana apprentice #amaryllis leroux #apprentice amaryllis #julian devorak #asra alnazar #portia devorak #nadia satrinava #fan apprentice #amie fic #amieilya #amieasra #my fic #come what may

[nvvermore]

The Ghost of My Life

Vesper arrives to lead Amaryllis to the answers they seek

[part eleven of Come What May]

words: 3k

cw: memory loss, animal injury

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

Amaryllis is ready to strangle Asra when he whispers to them at breakfast the next morning, telling them to meet him at the palace’s fountain after breakfast with Nadia.

They don't really care why he and Vesper are here, just that they're here at all, meddling in their investigation, meddling in their business with Nadia. Out of all the opportunities Asra has had to answer their questions, he chose now.

Amaryllis meets him anyways, at the fountain, his skin glistening against the early morning sunshine. It’s far too early for what little sleep they got last night.

“It was good to see Nadi again. She hasn't changed much.” Asra murmurs, a false pleasantly, as he gazes deep into the fountain.

Amaryllis notes the lack of familiarity in the way Nadia had interacted with Asra, both at dinner and at breakfast. “So you knew her.”

“She doesn't remember me. Her memories are missing. A lot like yours.” His expression holds an air of nostalgia.

“I feel like you're the only one not missing anything.”

“I’m missing more than you think.”

“I'm not even going to bother asking.”

Asra sighs. “But that's not why I asked you here. You and Ilya are trying to figure out what happened that night, right?”

“I am. Julian, not so much. He’s set in believing what he wants to about what happened. Whatever makes him look like the villian.”

“That… sounds about Ilya. Why are you bothering to help him, then?”

“I’m not helping him. I’m using him to get answers. There’s too many coincidences, Asra. The timeline, the memory loss, Lucio.”

“What about Lucio?”

“His ghost haunts these halls. There's a painting, of me, in his wing. He insisted I had something to do with his death.”

“Amie… have you told Nadia?”

“No. You're the only one who would believe me. Julian knows, but only because he saw it for himself.”

“That's… concerning.”

“Oh, really? I thought it might be the typical goings on around here.”

“I've come to the realization that even if I have the answers you seek, I can't give them to you. I'm going to have Vesper take you somewhere you might find some.”

-☽☼☾-

“So, are you gonna bring your boytoy?” Vesper finally breaks the silence, as Amaryllis leads him through the palace gardens.

“He's not my boytoy.”

“But you knew who I meant.” They don't need to see his grin to know it's there.

Amaryllis sighs. “For now, I’d like to find Portia.”

“That cute little redhead from breakfast? I'd like to find her too.”

They groan. “Will you knock it off? It’s this way.” Amaryllis turns a corner, leading Vesper through the gardens to Portia’s cottage.

It isn't much longer until they arrive, but it feels like ages thanks to Vesper’s incessant blabbering.

As the pair of siblings approach the cottage, all is quiet, and Amaryllis knocks on the door softly.

It opens to reveal none other than Julian, as soon as their fist makes contact.

“Amaryllis? Funny finding you here! I was just, uh. Expecting Pasha?”

“Because Pasha would knock on the door of her own home, of course.”

“Right. Well. Then I suppose you're looking for me.”

“Unfortunately.” Amaryllis steps to the side, gesturing to the man beside them. “Julian, this is my brother, Vesper.”

“Salut tout le monde,” Vesper holds a hand out, shaking Julian’s eagerly. “Tu ne m'as pas dit à quel point il était beau.”

“Ferme ta bouche.” Amaryllis tells him, nudging Vesper in the side. “Anyways. Apparently Vesper can lead us to someone who has answers. I’d prefer to go without you, but It’s better if someone is keeping an eye on you.”

-☽☼☾-

Julian is eager to tag along, practically jumping out the door to follow Vesper’s lead.

Vesper is vague on where exactly he’s taking them, only asking Amaryllis to show them the way off the palace grounds and into the forest. From there, he and Julian walk together while they trail behind, the two becoming fast friends, much to their disdain. They pretend to be grateful Julian’s attention isn't on them, but everytime they catch Vesper saying something flirtatious to him, it only adds to their ire.

Their conversation disrupts the otherwise eerie, but peaceful, silence of the forest. Amaryllis just trails behind them, with Styx to keep them company, focusing on anything else but the annoying duo in front of them.

Vesper leads them deeper and deeper into the dark woods, into parts Amaryllis has only managed to venture into a handful of times, in search of flowers or other rare herbs.

Eventually, they approach a small clearing, and immediately Amaryllis senses a change in the air— magic.

There's a protection spell cast over the entire clearing, and Vesper has stopped the group at the boundary of it. He traces a few runes into the air, disarming it to let them pass. Once they're all through, he reengages it with a different set of symbols.

“Vesper, where are we?” Amaryllis asks. They aren't familiar with this area of the woods, or this type of magic.

“A friend of mine lives here.” He gestures across the clearing, where a gigantic, centuries old, sprawling tree stands. There's a cottage built into the hollowed out base of it. “He’s not going to be happy that I've brought you two along.” Vesper explains. “He’s not home, but we can wait for him inside. He won’t like that either, but I’ll make it all up to him later.” Vesper winks, and Amaryllis sees Julian go red out of the corner of their eye.

In a moment, they're going to be seeing red.

Vesper saunters over to the front door, having no problem opening it despite the protection spell engraved into it. Amaryllis examines the carvings, and the base of the spell they’re able to identify as Asra’s work.

“This is where Asra sends you all the time.” Amaryllis says as they follow Vesper inside, Julian trailing behind.

“Guilty.”

Inside is more inviting than Amaryllis assumed it would be. The mystery man’s home is spacious, with surprisingly high ceilings, with branches from the tree above cross-crossing through the rafters. There’s a large, unmade bed pressed up against the far corner, and bookshelves full of knick-knacks line the walls. At the front of the room is a large fireplace, and next to it a kitchen, even bigger than the one in the shop. It’s impressive, all the work someone clearly put into making this place into the perfect home.

Vesper strips off his boots and lights the fireplace from across the room casually, as if he lived here himself. “Make yourselves comfortable,” he says, struggling his way onto the bed. “Just not as comfortable as me. And don't touch anything. I'm already pushing enough of Muriel’s boundaries as is.”

Amaryllis decides to take a closer look around, their hands clasped behind their back. Julian takes a seat at the dining table.

“So, this, Muriel will be able to give us answers about the night Lucio was killed? Who is he anyway?” Julian asks.

“He’s a friend of mine and Asra’s. That’s all you need to know. As for what he knows, I don't know. Asra just told me to bring you guys to him.”

“Why you, instead of Asra?” Amaryllis asks.

“Asra thought I’d be the better option for many reasons, number one being I can get away with more when it comes to Muri.” Vesper sits up to address Amaryllis. “Number two, you were cranky on the walk with just me and Julian. All hell would have broken loose with Asra here.”

Amaryllis crosses their arms in front of their chest. “I was not cranky.”

“Oh really? So I can flirt with Julian here all I want and you won't be mad?”

“I don't know, how would ‘Muri’ feel about you flirting with other men?”

“Touché.”

Suddenly, the front door is kicked in and a large figure steps through it. Vesper shoots up in the bed, and even Julian rises from his seat.

The man makes eye contact with Amaryllis first.

“What— what are you doing here?” he asks, eyeing them, voice far softer than expected. Amaryllis finds him familiar, but it's not the same intensity as they'd felt with Julian and Nadia.

“Muri, Asra told me to bring them here. They have questions for you— wait, what are you carrying?” Vesper hops down from the bed to rush over to Muriel, examining the bundle of cloth in his arms.

“Not now, I’m busy. Get out.” Muriel tears his gaze away from Amaryllis to look at Vesper. “We'll talk about this later.”

Vesper fumbles around with whatever is in his arms and Muriel lets him, uncovering a wolf, shivering and covered in blood. When Muriel notices Amaryllis staring, his hold on the animal tightens.

“Nanna!” Vesper cries. “Muriel, what happened to her?”

Julian apparently can't read the room, and steps forward, addressing Muriel for the first time. “Is… she hurt?”

Muriel nods slowly, his uncertain glare now trained on Julian.

“Well lucky for you I'm a doctor then. Maybe I can help her.”

“No, keep your hands off her.” Muriel orders, but it's gentle, purely protective. He sets her down gently in front of the fire, atop a pile of furs. He remains hovering over the wolf, shielding her.

Vesper speaks up. “Muriel, let him help. From what I've heard, he isn't your average doctor. He can heal her better than any of us ever could.” Muriel stares at Vesper for a few moments, before sighing, and leaning back to kneel next to the wolf. He shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh, nodding subtly. “Go ahead.”

Julian still looks hesitant with just Vesper’s verbal permission, but he strips off his gloves anyways, approaching the wolf slowly. She snarls at him, baring her teeth even as Muriel pets gently at her fur.

“Inanna, it’s alright.” Muriel coos, and she calms down. Amaryllis decides the wolf must be his familiar.

Inanna finally lets Julian touch her, removing the blanket to find a large gouge upon her side. “Oh my, you poor thing. I’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy, don't mind me.” He goes to work right away, the mark on his neck glowing as both Muriel and Inanna watch him carefully. The wound on her side fades until it's gone, and the blood is seeping through Julian’s coat instead.

Julian backs away from the duo and Vesper rushes forward to take his place, greeting Inanna warmly as Muriel checks her over.

“Thank you…” Muriel mutters, his guarded body language falling slightly. Amaryllis goes to Julian without thinking, peeling the bloodied coat back to check the wound, now on Julian’s own side.

“It’s no problem at all, it's already almost all healed on me.” He turns away, lifting his shirt showing off nothing but a faint scratch upon his skin. “It’s fine, Amaryllis.”

They nod, backing away from him.

“Muri, what happened? That wasn't from just any animal.” Vesper asks, still offering comfort to Inanna. Helios, his own familiar, slithers out from his shirt and down his arm and onto Inanna to give her his own snake hug.

“It was Lucio.”

“Lucio? He’s here?” Amaryllis raises their voice just enough to be heard from the other side of the room, but it seems to set off alarm bells for Muriel anyways. He tears his disapproving gaze off of them and his eyes soften when he looks at Vesper, who nods in approval.

“He’s back. At least his ghost is.”

“I know.” Amaryllis steps forward, but not too close, lifting their sleeve to reveal the remnants of the gashes he left across their arm on their first night at the palace. “I didn't think he was able to leave his room.”

“He’s growing stronger.”

“That’s why they're here. Muri, Asra says you know something about that night.”

“The night of the fire…” Muriel murmurs.

“I do know you?” Julian speaks up. “Now that I think about it, you seem quite familiar.”

Muriel rises from the floor, towering over everyone else in the room, even Julian. “We need firewood. Stay here.” He nods at Vesper before exiting the hut, unintentionally slamming the door on the way out.

Suddenly, Amaryllis feels a magical shift, one that they can't quite explain. “Vesper, what's going on?” they ask, unsure of what they're even talking about.

“You’ll see.”

A moment later, the front door slams open, and in steps a hulking man carrying a bundle of firewood. He looks at Amaryllis and Julian, with mild disdain, but seemingly unsurprised to find two strangers in his home.

Perhaps Asra let him know they’d be coming ahead of time?

He steps past them, turning his back to Amaryllis and Julian to approach the fireplace. A mark— just like the one Julian carries, just like the one they apparently carry over their heart— is aglow on his back.

“Amie, Julian, this is Muriel,” Vesper says, “he was just in here a moment ago. You don't remember him.”

“He was already here? No, no… I would have remembered meeting someone as… large… as he is.” Julian says, his cheeks turning pink as Muriel gives him a side-eye.

“You wouldn't. People… forget me.” Muriel explains, getting the fire going.

“But you don’t forget him, Vesper?” Amaryllis asks, turning to their brother.

“I used to. Then one day Muriel decided he didn't want me to anymore. Obviously Asra remembers him too. But that’s it.”

“People forget you? Just like that?” Julian slumps back down into the dining table chair.

Muriel keeps stroking the fire. “Don't you have… questions, or something for me?”

“The mark. Yours allows others to forget you so you can live a peaceful life. Julian’s allows him to take other’s injuries onto himself. I have one over my heart, but I have no clue what it allows me to do. Neither of us know how we got it, but you might.” Amaryllis keeps their distance from Muriel, still sensing the man’s hesitation.

It takes him a moment to respond. “...I helped a friend. And I was rewarded in return.”

“Amie, you have one of these marks?” Vesper asks. They look to their brother and nod, summoning up whatever magic they can to make the mark glow. It’s faint, but now that they know it's there, they can make it appear.

“A friend, hm? So Asra.” Muriel seems to have no comment at Amaryllis’s deduction.

“Muri, are these marks connected to that night? I know even less than all of you, all I’ve been able to get from Asra is that Amaryllis’s accident was magical in nature, and he implied it was his fault.”

“What? He’s told you that much?” Amaryllis questions.

“He’s afraid to tell you, because every time he’s tried, your headaches get worse. But whenever you learn the truth naturally, they don't. He’s just trying to protect you in the only way he knows how.”

“That’s all you know, Vesper?” Julian asks from across the room, a contemplative look across his features.

“It’s the most he’s ever told me at all. He thinks I’ll run my mouth— and he’s not wrong— so he keeps me in the dark. We both agreed to it, for Amaryllis’s sake.”

“If Asra sent you here, he wants me to tell you what I know.” Muriel starts. “It was the night… The night of the fire. Asra sent me to find you.” he nods his head towards Julian.

“Asra was there? You were there? Why don't I remember any of this?” Julian rises once more.

“You were locked in a dungeon.”

Julian’s eye widens, and he digs through his pocket, pulling out the key he found in the library yesterday. He holds it up for Muriel to see. “Recognize this?”

“That’s the key. To the dungeons.”

“Locked in a dungeon… before the murder? What for?”

“I don't know. But I let you out. I led you up to… his room. L— You know. Him.” Muriel's expression grows intense for just a moment, but he reels it back in. “The room was already on fire. You ran in, and I left.”

“The room was already on fire…? I’m innocent…?” Julian pulls his gaze away from Muriel, and it lands on them for a moment, before glancing down at the brand etched into his skin. “I’m innocent.”

“Muriel, where was I that night?” Amaryllis interrupts.

The room goes silent, and Julian’s former expression of relief and victory is replaced with cold dread.

“Don’t.” is all he says.

“No! I’m tired of everyone else knowing something I don’t!” Amaryllis tries not to shout, as to not disrupt Muriel’s home anymore than they already have. “Muriel, where was I?”

“He’s… right.” Muriel grimaces. “I shouldn't. It’s not for me to tell.”

“Fine!” Amaryllis throws their arms up, approaching the door, pulling it open. “Everyone else can get their answers but me. I hope you're happy, Julian.” They step through the threshold, slamming the door shut behind them.

They make it just past the edge of the protection spell before Julian is trailing after them.

“Amaryllis, I—”

“No! Don't speak! Don't tell me whatever you’re keeping from me is for my own good, I don't want to hear it.”

“But—”

“I mean it!” Amaryllis keeps walking ahead, shouting loud enough for Julian to hear their words from behind them. “You lost memories. You got to make the choice to come back to Vesuvia, to find out what happened to you, despite everyone who cares about you protesting against that. We all gave you the room to make that decision for yourself. And in return you take away my ability to make that choice for myself.”

Julian seems to have nothing more to say.

The two of them trudge on in silence, much like they did the other night. As much as Amaryllis wanted Julian to shut up, now his silence is aggravating them just as much.

And then, the light, sparse drizzle turns into a full-on downpour.

Julian catches up with Amaryllis, stripping off his oversized overcoat to shield the both of them with it.

“Maybe we should find a place to stop until the rain lets up?” he murmurs, far too close to their ear.

Amaryllis says nothing.

They walk on, boots slopping through puddles of mud as they trek back through the forest on an undetermined path.

“You're right, you know.” Julian says. “I'm keeping this… thing… from you, keeping you from making your own choice. But it’s not out of concern for you as much as it is for me. Vocalizing what I think I know, it may very well break me. You're strong enough to handle it, I know it. But me? Not a chance.”

“Oh, so your selfish arrogance is supposed to make me feel better?” Amaryllis stops in their tracks, Julian bumping into them from behind. “This whole time I had thought I was trying my damndest to find the good in you, but I realize now I was only trying to prove Asra wrong.”

Amaryllis feels Julians fingers brush against their damp shoulder, and then he’s gone, resuming the walk back through the forest.

“We’d better get a move on. I’m sure Pasha is expecting us.”

#the arcana #amaryllis leroux #julian devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #asra alnazar #apprentice amaryllis #fan apprentice #my fic #amie fic #vesper tristesse #amieilya #vesmuri #come what may

[nvvermore]

Paint You Red

A talk at the docks between Amaryllis and Julian

[part nine of Come What May]

words: 2.2

cw: memory loss, the girls are fighting

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

“Julian, I can't take this any longer. Either we talk now, or I leave.”

When Amaryllis finally puts their foot down, demanding Julian stop whatever one-sided game he's been playing with them all day, he leads them to the east docks.

It’s dead silent out here, dark, only the light of the moon to illuminate his face before them. The sea is endless, the only thing breaking up the view of the shimmering water is the dilapidated form of the Lazaret. It turns their stomach, it always has, and if they'd known this was Julian’s master plan all along they would have led him elsewhere for this ‘talk’.

“Alright, what's so pressing that you felt the need to dodge this conversation—that you wanted to have in the first place— all day?” Amaryllis asks, crossing their arms as they wait for his answer. Julian simply sighs, taking his time pacing slowly back and forth at the very end of the dock. After a silence that goes on too long, he finally stops, and sits down, legs dangling off of the edge.

“Feel that breeze. A nice night for sailing, don't you think?” He stares out at the water as he speaks, hardly addressing them at all.

“Julian.” Amaryllis snaps. In the past few days, they've learned a lot about Julian. One of them being, when they treat him harshly, he either feeds into it or grows embarrassed. But today, nothing. All day he’s been dodgy and tense, trying to take them on some meaningless adventures that accomplished nothing but wasting their time, ignoring their pleas for him to just get out with whatever he needed to say.

“Right.” Amaryllis sees his moonlit silhouette nod. “Come sit?” Julian pats the spot on the dock next to him.

They brush off his request, merely stepping closer to lean against the post next to him. “I’m fine standing.”

“Amaryllis… listen. We, uh, really need to talk. We've uh. Needed to talk all day. I guess I was just enjoying myself too much to take the plunge.”

“Enjoying yourself, or just stalling?”

“Both, I suppose.” His voice is small.

“Just out with it already, Julian.”

“I've done the calculations.” he starts, his words quick, like he has to force them from his mouth or else they'll never be spoken. “Thought of every possibility. Run through the scenario in my head over and over. There's only one way I can see this whole thing playing out. And it's not a happy ending, trust me.” He stops to take a deep breath. Amaryllis wants to interrupt, tell him to keep his monologues to himself, but they remain silent. It’s the most they've gotten out of him all day, after all. “Isn't it best to cut things off at the pass? To spare you the trouble of a tragic ending?”

“What?” It's all Amaryllis can say really. They stare down at him, but his eye is trained out on the Lazaret instead, avoiding them.

“The Lazaret.” Amaryllis is ready to just kick him off the dock and into the sea below. “Where they sent the victims during the plague. A monument to my failures. It haunts me.”

“I know what the Lazaret is. I see it every night in my dreams.” Julian finally glances up at them then, eye wide with horror. “Now back to the subject at hand, what is this ‘It's not you, it’s me’ bullshit?”

“I don't want to drag this out, Amaryllis.” His expression softens, shifting back into misery. “This… whatever it was, whatever it could have been.”

“It was more than just ‘whatever’. We both know it.” Amaryllis admits, suddenly feeling pathetic for fighting back against him at all. It’s new territory. Usually, they're the one doing the rejecting, not the other way around.

“Well, it has to end. Before it's too late for you. I am only going to end up hurting you somehow. I know it.”

They scoff. “Congratulations are in order then, Julian. You're a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Not this. I’ll end up doing something much worse. It’s what I do. What I've always done.” Julian says, and it feels final, or at least, Amaryllis wants it to be.

“Fine. I’ll leave then.” They turn away without a second thought, heels clicking against the dock, breaking the peaceful silence of the ocean. They've only made it a few steps before footfalls sound behind theirs.

“Amaryllis, wait!” Julian calls after them.

“What, Julian?” Amaryllis raises their voice, turning to face him where he stands a few feet away. “What is it? Do you want me, or not? I don't like wasting my time, and I’m sick of everyone else always deciding they know what's best for me.”

Julian splutters, opening his mouth, but nothing ever comes out.

“You know what, good riddance. I don't need someone like you who's clearly too caught up in himself to trust my judgment. If this is some shit about whatever happened that night of the masquerade, fine. If you want to martyr yourself so bad, I won't bother with the truth, I’ll just see you at the gallows instead.”

“I don't know if I killed the Count… but I know I could have. I know I have that darkness inside me.”

“And you think I don't? I’m sure many people wanted nothing more than for Lucio to finally meet his end when he was gorging himself while the city died. You were there, in the trenches. Even if I believed all this was as simple you being a murderer, I wouldn’t blame you. I don't think you're dangerous, I know danger, I promise. I think you're scared.”

“And you aren't?”

“Of you?” Amaryllis laughs. “Wouldn't dream of it. Of everything else? I'm terrified. From the moment you broke into my shop, something snapped in me. This pull, I've never felt anything like it in the years that I can recall, and I’m not the type to fall helplessly with one fell swoop. That's what I'm scared of. Of what you meant to me, in another time.” Saying it out loud only makes them feel worse. Until now, they could just pretend that Julian was just another pretty man they were stringing along for a good time, while keeping the truth tucked away in the back of their mind.

Julian seems to catch on to the shame in Amaryllis’s confession, and steps closer. He lifts his arms, hesitating, but ultimately places gloved hands over their shoulders. They reject his touch, stepping away.

“I know it's only been a short time, but I feel like I've known you for years. Is it because you put me at ease? That's hard to do, you know. I want to be around you. I, erm. Can't stop thinking about you, even when you're not there. That's the problem. I'm torn in two, Amaryllis. My brain tells me to leave, but my heart keeps pulling me back.”

“Then why?”

“There’s no future for us that doesn't end in ruin for you.” Julian says solemnly.

“Wow, have you started up a hobby in divination? That’s great Julian, I wish you the best. Maybe you can join up with the fraud fortune readers down at the market.” Amaryllis spits, taking a few more steps away from him. “Remember how I said I dislike wasting my time? Apparently not, you were too busy listening to yourself instead of me. I’m done.” They turn away from him once more, making their way back up the dock.

“Let me walk you home.” he calls after them.

“Oh, I should let the dangerous heathen walk me home? I think not.” They shout back at him.

Amaryllis doesn't stop when he follows them, apparently deciding on his own he’s going to walk them anyways. They'd really like to turn around and curse him for not listening to them. But they have bigger thoughts to deal with, what with the way they bared their heart and feelings to him just to be rejected anyways, despite their best instincts.

The walk back to the shop is quicker than normal, with the fast pace Amaryllis keeps to keep as far away from Julian— still trailing behind them— as possible.

A chirp rings out in the distance, and Styx swoops out of the darkness, landing upon their shoulder. The bat had made himself scarce when Julian had taken them to hide out Mazelinka’s home last night.

“Where have you been?” Amaryllis asks their familiar, out loud.

“Wanted to give you space.”

“Thank you. But I won't be needing much anymore.”

“Everyone is home now.”

“Great, that’s just what I need right now.”

They're just steps away from the shop, the curtains drawn with light from inside peeking through. Amaryllis pauses on the street, imagining Asra and Ophélie inside helping each other with dinner, while Vesper sits off to the side, his only assistance in the form of backseat cooking. It’s warm, inviting, how they felt last night when Mazelinka welcomed them into her home with open arms.

They now realize staying there last night was wholly unnecessary. They didn't have to stay, and they probably shouldn't have. But they did anyway. They wanted to spend time with Julian, away from the outside world where Amaryllis is tasked with deciding if he really is as guilty as everyone— including himself— believes him to be.

Earlier in the day, Amaryllis would have invited Julian to join them inside without a second thought. He would have protested, gently, but they would have forced him through the door anyway. Things surely would have been tense between him and Asra, but Vesper and Ophélie would welcome him as Mazelinka did them. Ophélie would have made him a plate of whatever it is she's cooking up, forced him to take a seat and enjoy. Vesper would have dug right in to find out what made him tick, would have given them a look and made some comment about what a catch he was. It’d be a wonderful night, and Amaryllis would think about how Portia and Mazelinka were missing, but that there would be all the time in the world for the two to join at some point.

But now, Amaryllis simply turns to glance back at him, pretending not to see the way his eye tears up at their cold expression. He takes a step closer, opening his mouth, but they push open the front door, slamming it in his face behind them.

The shop’s atmosphere is a complete opposite to the one they just stepped in from. As predicted, a racket is coming from the kitchen upstairs, the sounds of Vesper and Ophélie’s bickering carrying down the stairs and through the shop. Asra must have been anticipating their arrival, because he’s already at the bottom of the stairs, smiling when his eyes land on them.

“Welcome home, Amie.” His greeting has all the warmth it usually carries, but they aren't in the mood for kindness anymore.

“You’re back early.”

“We decided to cut the trip short— I recognize that look. What happened?” Asra’s soft smile falls into a concerned grimace.

“Not now.”

“It’s Ilya, isn't it?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Amaryllis, I haven't seen you this upset in… Well, a very long time.”

“Fine, it's about Julian!” Amaryllis raises their voice just enough, tired of being pushed and pulled at all day. “You'll be pleased to know you won't ever have to hear about him from me again. Julian is done, I’m done. Happy?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it—“

“Julian? He’s back?” Ophélie calls suddenly, from the top of the stairs, her voice small.

“He’s probably still moping out front.” Amaryllis tells her.

She doesn't wait for an answer before rushing down the stairs, pushing past Asra.

“Lie, where are you going?” he calls as she scoops her coat up off the floor.

“I have to talk to him.”

With her brow furrowed and look of determination in her eyes, she glances back at everyone briefly. She exits the shop silently, leaving everyone with nothing but the slam of the door.

Amaryllis moves without thinking, stomping through the shop as if the pounding of their heels against the wood flooring can stop Asra’s attempts at speaking with them. “I’m going to go chase down Ophélie—“

Asra cuts them off. “She’ll be okay. She needs this.”

“So she does know him. From before.” It isn’t a question.

“I don’t know the details,” Asra says carefully. Amaryllis turns, eyeing him. “I wasn’t there.” He sighs, the look in his eyes hollow. “But I know he helped her out of a horrible situation. It was traumatic for her, when he disappeared.”

“He said she sounded familiar when I’d mentioned her.”

“He should be more than familiar with her. From what I know, she was just a child when he found her. Practically had a hand in raising her with—“ he cuts himself off.

Amaryllis opens their mouth to make the connection on their own, but instead Vesper takes the moment over, choosing right then to be the perfect time to pop his head around the stairwell.

“So, anyone want to tell me who the hell Julian is?”

#amaryllis leroux #the arcana #julian devorak #apprentice amaryllis #fan apprentice #amieilya #come what may #amie fic #my fic

[nvvermore]

I'm With You

Hiding out from the guards, Amaryllis and Julian spend a night together

[part eight of Come What May]

words: 2.8k

cw: mentions of injury and death

NSFW 🍋: they be fucking

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

“Ah ah ah. Careful, Amaryllis. There's poison in these petals.”

Amaryllis snatches the luminous flower from Julian's grasp.

“You think I wouldn't know that?” they snap back, and for a moment, he looks just a little dejected. “Deadly starstrand. It’s perfectly safe to the touch. It needs to be distilled to have any ill effect.” He just stares at them.

“Well, I, uh. There goes the clever metaphor I had lined up.” he mutters awkwardly.

“Julian.” His gaze snaps up from the flower in their grasp. “You don't need to come up with ‘clever metaphors’ to speak with me. I’d prefer it if you'd simply state how you feel.”

“How about how you feel, then?” he counters.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You kissed me yesterday— quite passionately, might I add— what was that supposed to mean?”

“I—“ Conveniently, the sudden sound of armored footsteps nearby interrupts Amaryllis’s chance to respond. “The guards, quiet.”

Julian clearly doesn't get the message, because he continues speaking at normal volume. “No, I want to know—“

“Quiet!” they hiss, and when he opens his mouth yet again, they clamp a hand over it, backing him up against the crumbling wall behind him. The footsteps grow closer, and Amaryllis can now make out the voices of the patrol. And yet, Julian still tries to get another word in.

“Would you stop!” Instead of waiting for Julian's inevitable answer, Amaryllis decides on a different tactic to keep him quiet. They take the hand that’s over his mouth to bury it into his curls and tug, leaning in to capture his lips and muffle the surprised sound he makes. He seems to finally admit defeat then, bringing his gloved hands to cradle their jaw on either side. His kiss is desperate this time, immediately opening up for them to slip their tongue against his. They pull harder on his hair, swallowing his moans. They keep an ear out for the guards, listening as they hear the voices and footsteps grow closer, and then finally start to fade away.

Once Amaryllis is certain the patrol has moved on, they back Julian harder against the wall, with their body this time. He gasps as their hand that isn't buried into his curls wanders up his side, lightly brushing against the wound he'd taken from them. He shivers, and they linger there, applying more pressure as they bite his lip.

“Amaryllis,” he gasps against their lips, “I—“

“What do you want, Julian?”

“You. Please.”

“You have me.”

Amaryllis feels him struggle to pull back from their hold.

“Perhaps…” he starts, breathless, “we should get out of here, while we still can.”

“Lead the way.”

-☽☼☾-

Amaryllis is on the beach again.

They're out-of-body, watching their typical vision of the man weeping over their dead body, the blood on his hands spreading to them as he brushes their hair out of their face, straightens their skirt, holds their hands in his.

The dream is the same as it always is, until suddenly, they're back in their own body. Their eyes flutter open, landing on the sullen face of the man who's been mourning them all these years.

Julian.

-☽☼☾-

“Amaryllis!”

Hitting the floor is what wakes them. Amaryllis already had doubts about how well the twin-sized bed would fit both Julian and themself when they first laid down, and it seems they should have followed their gut.

Julian follows them down to the floor, crowding them, hands on their shoulders. “Are you alright?”

It’s all too much like their dreams all at once.

“I’m fine.” They push him away, still coming out of the daze of sleep and the revelation of their dream. Their eyes dart around the unlit room, adjusting to the dark, until they finally catch Julian’s eye. He's kneeled next to their sprawled-out form, sorrow dragging down his features. Amaryllis takes his hand this time. They pretend not to know why. “I apologize. I had a nightmare.”

“You… you were crying out, my name.” he mutters.

“That— I didn't mean to wake you.” Amaryllis turns to face him. “I get nightmares, more often than not, when I sleep. Typically, I put off resting as much as I possibly can. That soup must be quite potent if it knocked me out from just a few of your kisses earlier.”

“That isn't good for you, you know.”

“Thank you doctor. Perhaps you should take your own advice.”

It’s quiet in the cottage. Mazelinka went to bed before the two of them did, down in the ‘hidey hole’, and hopefully their outburst hadn’t disturbed her too. It was lovely to see her earlier, Amaryllis had no idea that all this time they’d been going to her for a remedy for Ophélie’s condition that she was related to the city’s most wanted. Or how the woman never made any indication that they might have known each other from before Amaryllis can even remember.

Amaryllis’s eyes have adjusted to the dark just fine, but they assume it must be harder for Julian with only one. They lift a hand, flicking their index finger up as if they were striking a match, summoning a small flame at the end of their nail. It turns their stomach, but it’s safe, and they aren't aware enough of their surroundings to light a nearby candle from this far.

“That’s a neat trick. It suits you.” Julian whispers.

“Let's not forget about yours.” They reach out with the hand that isn't holding the flame to run their nails across his neck. Amaryllis feels him shiver. “I wouldn't have forgiven that eel if he'd taken a permanent chuck out of my tattoo.”

“You likely wouldn't have survived to see it.”

“You underestimate me.”

“I've treated many bites like that. We're the first to survive.”

Amaryllis drags the hand and his neck down from his shoulders to his waist, where he'd taken the bite from the vampire eel away from them earlier in the night. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright now, a bit of rest was the last thing I needed to recover.”

“It’s quite an incredible power, really.” It's meant as a compliment of sorts, but Julian just grimaces.

“Well you can thank Asra for me then.” he says sarcastically.

“I know there’s some sort of animosity between the two of you— I can hardly blame you— but Asra didn't do that to you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I know what his magic feels like. Better than my own. When you healed me, it didn't feel like him.” Julian hums, eyes back on the ground and he contemplates what they just told him. “Besides, if he could pull a trick like that, I’d have a new reason to be mad at him. I can’t heal for the life of me, and he hasn't been able to teach me.”

“With your magic?”

“No. I've tried at it for as long as I can remember, and even longer than that I assume. Asra is confident I’ll catch on one day, but I just assume it’s not in my nature.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it, learning how to heal people takes a lot of time and practice. I should know.”

“I don't know. I think all I’m good for is staving off the inevitable.” Julian’s brow furrows, looking at them like he’s waiting for an explanation. “The best I can do is compose songs that assist with symptom management. Asra gets chest pains, Ophélie is prone to fainting, and Vesper—my brother, has a lot of anxieties. I’ve written something to help each of them on bad days. But it’s just a mask for their ailments, I can't fix what's happening to them.”

“Amaryllis, ‘the best you can do’? Please, that’s amazing. I’m not a fan of magic, but I have to say. Not even the medicines we have can manage to do that, nevermind the side effects of some of them.”

Amaryllis can feel their face heating up, hoping that the low lighting won't make it so obvious. They’re used to praise, the expect it even, but something about Julian’s genuine amazement at their talent in a subject he doesn't typically appreciate has them at a loss for words.

They’re caught up in their own thoughts when they feel a faint touch on the scarred side of their face. They flinch before they realize it's just Julian’s hand. He seems to take that as a rejection and starts to pull away, but Amaryllis catches his hand, placing it back on their cheek.

“I’m sorry. I have limited sensation on this side. Sometimes when touched it can feel a little odd and it takes me by surprise.”

His thumb brushes ever so carefully over the length of their scar. “How did it happen?”

“I don't know.” They know they don't need to give him an explanation as to why. “I think it’s pretty neat though. Makes me look far more intimidating than I actually am.” They nod towards the eyepatch. “What about you?”

“Oh, this old thing? Occupational hazard. I still have an eye, it’s just not very pretty to look at. And my vision in it is very poor, so it’s much easier to just wear the patch. Mazelinka got it for me, years ago. And besides, it’s a very dramatic look.” Julian explains.

“Very dramatic. It works well for you.” Amaryllis laughs when Julian starts giggling, unable to hold it back. “What a pair we are.”

“A pair? Are we?” His question is loaded.

“It seems so.”

Amaryllis waits for Julian to kiss them this time, letting the flame at their fingertip fade out so they can pull him closer. It’s sweet, how gently, almost reverently, he holds them. He leans backwards against the bed frame, going from kneeling to sprawling his long legs out in front of him, and Amaryllis follows, straddling him. His hands tug at the back of nightshirt he’d so graciously let them borrow, theirs finding a place tangled in his curls.

They bite at his bottom lip and he moans, quietly, but Amaryllis isn't going to take any chances. With a quick wave of their hand, a silencing spell is cast on the two of them.

Julian’s hands finally slip under the nightshirt to caress their bare skin. They lean into him further, making proper contact where their hips meet his and he shudders. Hesitantly, Amaryllis breaks the kiss and he moves to follow, but a manicured hand on his shoulder keeps him in place.

“Julian,” they purr, “you’re so wound up when all I’ve done is kiss you.” They still, wanting to simply observe him for a moment. To take in how his blouse hangs off his shoulders, revealing how flushed pink his skin has become. His gaze staring them down, lidded and hazy, and how it shifts when they grind down on his lap. Generally, Amaryllis thinks he’s a beautiful man, but like this, under their spell, he’s ethereal.

Without warning, Julian’s head is yanked back by his curls, giving Amaryllis full access to his pale neck. He opens his mouth to speak but the only sound that comes out is a moan as Amaryllis places a soft kiss on his pulse point.

“Ohhhhhh, you can bite, suck, anything, I don’t min- I love it. Please.” he begs, and Amaryllis can’t help but to oblige him. They press sloppy kisses to his skin, sucking and biting and leaving behind wine-colored marks from their lipstick as he pants and pleads above them. It seems that no matter the situation, if his mouth isn’t occupied, he talks. It spurs Amaryllis on, longing to make his babbling more and more incoherent as they go on.

Perfectly in time with the movement of their hips, Amaryllis bites into his neck, hard, right as they make contact with his cock. They linger, dragging over slower and firmer than they have been. And Julian whines, he whines and his nails dig into their back and drag down.

Their lips find his again and his hands move down to their ass, grabbing on and prompting them to move faster.

“Amaryllis—ah, yes..."

The way he says their name feels so hauntingly familiar, like they’ve heard him gasp it that same way a thousand times before. They feel like they instinctively know exactly where and how to touch him— It’s almost bizarre. There’s a longing in the back of Amaryllis’s mind, the illogical hope that a headache claims them. Some sort of sign, or confirmation, that there’s much more to who Julian is to them than they remember. That they've been here with him, like this, before.

Fingers slip back under Julian’s untucked shirt, pushing it the rest of the way off his shoulders. They had been intending to leave marks all over his pale skin, but his curse must have already remedied any that they've made, leaving only traces of smudged lipstick behind.

Amaryllis sits back up straight, making a show of riding his hips and breaking the frantic rhythm he had set for a slower pace. They watch him as they move, hungry for any reaction from him. He looks dazed and needy, gazing up at them with a similar intensity and his bottom lip between his teeth. With him looking at them like that, they reach up to undo the few buttons holding the nightshirt together, letting the fabric slip off their shoulders to reveal nothing underneath.

“You, erm, weren’t wearing anything else, this whole time?” Julian asks, his voice a shaky whisper.

“Typically, this is all I would wear.” They reach for his trousers, fingers hovering at the button. “Now, let's even things out, shall we?”

When their fingers make contact with his cock, brushing over the head, circling around his length, Julian bucks into their touch. With a whine, he recaptures their lips sloppily and Amaryllis is eager to devour every noise he makes.

“Good boy, that’s it.”

He reacts deliciously to the praise, bringing his face down to Amaryllis’s neck. In between Julian’s pants and kisses, he murmurs little praises and pleas into their skin. It’s all mostly swearing or incoherent, and then Amaryllis realizes he isn’t even speaking Vesuvian. That’s definitely not endearing whatsoever.

“Tell me what you need, Julian.”

“You, please…”

“‘Me’, what?”

“Fuck me, please, fuck me.”

His trousers are pulled the rest of the way down, and Amaryllis hovers over him once more. They’ve wanted this for longer than they’re willing to admit. They grind over him a few more times, skin on skin. One more grind, and they angle their hips just so, having no issue with his cock sliding in with how wound up they are.

Amaryllis finally lets a moan slip, unable to resist as Julian's cock manages to brush against them in all the right places.

“Oh darling, you feel so good, you're so good—“ They silence him with a kiss, bringing their hips up and down as they ride him faster. His touch wanders across their skin, one hand pinching at their nipple, giving a small tug to the bar pierced through it. The other he brings between them, his long fingers finding their clit to stroke in circles against it.

Julian groans in frustration, pulling away to look at Amaryllis with a pleading eye. “I-I’m not going to last.” he pants.

“Then don’t.”

It doesn’t take much more to make him come, and when he does it’s with his loudest, most shameless moan yet, broken pleas of appreciation whimpered in between kisses. He doesn't let up his attention on them, even through his orgasm, and Amaryllis’s follows him soon after with a silent cry.

His arms wrap around Amaryllis’s neck, fingers lacing through their hair gently, conscious of their comfort even now. It's sweet. As he comes down from his high his wrist slows, and Amaryllis cups his jaw to bring him in for another kiss.

Suddenly, it’s a much different kiss from the ones they had been sharing previously. This was languid and relaxed. Warm, but not hot. So distinctly intimate, and instead of pulling away like Amaryllis always does when things start to so much as hint in this direction, they relax further into him, kissing him with a kind of affection they weren’t ready to confront in the slightest.

For a moment he just rests his forehead against theirs, still grinning. His eye flutters closed and his lashes graze against Amaryllis’s cheek, and they wonder what it’d be like if Julian gave them butterfly kisses on purpose. It’s far too sentimental of a fantasy for them.

“How I’d love to make something real with you…” he mumbles, and then his expression drops. “If only we had more time.” Amaryllis grips his chin, bringing his face back up to theirs.

“What are you saying?” they question.

“Ah, Amaryllis, don't mind me. Just rambling. Thanks to you, I think my exhaustion is creeping back up on me.”

“Then, why don't we get you back into bed.”

“Only if you’ll join me.”

#amaryllis leroux #julian devorak #amieilya #the arcana #apprentice amaryllis #fan apprentice #my fic #🍋

[nvvermore]

Slowly Sinking Deeper

Amaryllis is once again assisting Julian in finding the truth. Unwillingly, of course.

[part ten of Come What May]

words: 3k

cw: drunkenness, memory loss, lucio, the girls are still fighting

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

“Portia, I have no interest in helping Julian.”

Portia—literally— puts her foot down. “Bullshit, Amaryllis. Not even forty-eight hours ago you two couldn’t stop making googly eyes at each other. You told me you knew he was innocent, that we were on the same side. What changed?”

“You can thank your fool of a brother for the change.”

“Let me guess. He pushed you away, pulled some martyr crap?” She rolls her eyes.

Amaryllis’s silence is all the answer she needs.

“Yea, you aren't special, that's just Ilya. He's been that way ever since we were kids. Always insisting on taking the load all on his own while lamenting how heavy it is. That doesn't mean we can’t help him anyways.”

“I understand your desire to help your brother, I do. I know I've helped mine out far more than I should. But I'd rather not.” Amaryllis pauses, glancing down to meet Portia’s pleading eyes. “But I’ll help you. And I’d like to know the truth, whether it clears his name or not.”

-☽☼☾-

Of course, Amaryllis and Portia find Julian at the Rowdy Raven, drinking away his sorrows of the night as if he wasn't the one to cause them in the first place. They grow furious, at the sight of him sitting there, drunk off of his ass, surrounded by empty pints of ale. If anyone, it should be them drinking away their sorrows, not him.

Amaryllis and Portia approach, Portia giving them the go-ahead to knock him out of his stupor.

“Up. Now, you fool.” they order, standing tall before his hunched over form.

It takes a moment for him to finally look up at them. “Amaryllis! Amie… You're here, in front of me.”

It’s Portia’s turn to have a go at her brother, and while the siblings bicker over his state Amaryllis zones out, wishing they were anywhere else. Or maybe that they had a drink themself.

There's talks of smuggling Julian back out of the city, to which he refuses despite Portia’s insistence.

“Amaryllis?” Portia interrupts their internal monologue. “A plan?”

“A plan? The plan should be Julian laying low, until I've had enough time to prove he wasn't responsible for Lucio’s death.”

Julian shakes his head, and with the state he’s in they're surprised it isn't nauseating. “But I remember nothing! You have no other witnesses, no one to prove otherwise.”

“I don't know that yet. I think Asra knows something, I just need to press harder. If only I could use my magic on him…”

“No no no, I need to figure out what happened for myself.” Julian goes to take another sip of his drink, but Amaryllis snatches it from his grasp and slams it on the table.

“Would you knock it off with the self-suffering?”

“Okay, what if we went back to the scene of the crime? Ilya, would that jog your memory?” Portia suggests.

“Portia, chérie, how do you suggest we get Ilya, the wanted murderer, into the palace?”

“I know my way in and around the palace just fine. But once we're in, he’ll need to lay low.”

“Me? Lay low? Impossible.” In a moment, they’re going to to be the one convicted of murder. His murder.

“I can disguise him if needed. I have a penchant for glamour spells of all strengths. You'll just need to keep Nadia occupied.”

-☽☼☾-

Portia gets the two of them into the palace with ease, Amaryllis only casting a glamour on Julian to smuggle him through the Palace’s employee entrance. After that, she shows the two to a door that leads to a network of hidden hallways. She explains that they haven't been in use since Lucio’s death— Nadia much prefers the palace’s main halls to be filled with liveliness, and before that there wasn't anyone to hide from. She gives them directions from there to Lucio’s wing, and goes off to find Nadia.

Amaryllis leads the way through the dark, hidden halls, summoning a flame in the palm of their hand to light the way. When they focus, they realize they don't need Portia’s direction to find their way to Lucio.

“I… I can't believe you're here… helping me, even after I hurt you last night.” Julian murmurs. Amaryllis imagines he's likely wringing his hands together, the way he does when he's anxious. They can't believe they know that about him.

“I’m not here to help you. If anyone, I’m helping Portia, and myself. I’m in too deep at this point to ignore all the coincidences of that night.” they retort.

Julian has nothing to say to that, and Amaryllis doesn't bother looking back at him.

It isn't long before they reach the door that connects to Lucio’s wing.

“Stay put. I’ll scout ahead. I doubt anyone is here, but last I checked there were two pups patrolling the place.”

Julian seems to obey, for the first time in what feels like ages, while Amaryllis exits into the main hall, right before the doors of Lucio’s bedroom. There are no Mercedes or Melchior to be seen, and no sounds coming from behind the gilded doors before them. Just the suffocating feeling of dread, similar to the last time they visited here.

They give Julian the okay to come out, not without a veiled threat to stay quiet. He doesn't— he can't— not when he notices the portrait of them on the wall.

“Amie… that’s—”

They shush him.

The two slip inside the bedroom, Julian shutting the heavy doors behind him with a muted thump.

It’s just as chilling as it was before.

Amaryllis wastes no time arming themself, pulling their second dagger from the holster at their thigh.

“You aren’t planning to use that on me, are you?” Julian whispers, and they know he can't help but try to break the silence.

“Quiet.”

They step silently across the dingy maroon carpeting, approaching the center of the room, where the phantom of Lucio assaulted them before. Their boot kicks something, and when they look down, it's the blade they abandoned before. The veil they'd left, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen. When they lean down to grab the dagger, that's when they hear him.

“You're back.”

Amaryllis spins around to face Julian. “Well, we're here. Memory jogged yet?”

“Uh, no. Unless you count memories of dealing with all of Lucio’s antics in this room, I don't think so.”

“You brought Jules this time? For me? Amie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Don't—“ they shout, “Call him that. Don't call me that.”

“Amaryllis?” Julian questions, concerned, approaching them cautiously, hands raised. It’s clear he isn’t hearing what they are.

“Julian, please, think. Alleged witnesses put you in this room that night. Why did you come here? Where did you come from?”

“I've told you, I can't remember anything!”

“You think Jules here killed me? As if he'd have the guts. You, on the other hand…”

Amaryllis feels a fleeting touch at their neck, and they dash across the room, approaching the mirror where Lucio had shown himself before. The sheet over it had been replaced since then, and they pull it off, tossing it to the side.

They wait, weapons raised, even though in the back of their mind they know blades are useless against an apparition. Julian remains in his place, as they ignore his questioning pleas.

“It'd be a dream come true to discover I was the one to bring you to an end.” Amaryllis speaks into the mirror, eyes darting across the surface, waiting to catch even the slightest glimpse of white fur. The thought of Lucio makes them feel ill, and it’s not just because of the last time they were here or the portrait in the hall. They know there’s so much more to this that they can't recall.

The room grows silent, even Julian stops speaking, and for a stretch of time all they can hear is the pounding of their blood in their ears.

And then Lucio is there, a clawed hand taking them by the throat, the other around their middle.

“And in a way, you did…”

There's a flash of a bright, white light, and when Amaryllis’s vision clears, Lucio is staring back at them in the mirror, as is their reflection, and so is a brand upon their chest— identical to the one Julian bears— directly over their heart.

Julian must be able to see what's happening then, because he rushes over, scooping up one of the discarded daggers from the floor below them before he plunges it into the mirror, cracking it even further.

The hold Lucio has on them vanishes along with any sign of their newly discovered mark.

“Amaryllis?” Julian questions again, his voice pleading. They can see the way he longs to approach them in the shattered reflection of the mirror.

“We need to leave. Now.” Amaryllis grabs him by the arm, dragging Julian through the room before making it to relative safety in the hallway, and then back into the hidden passageway.

Once inside, Amaryllis collapses against the wall, sliding to sit on the ground. Their head is pounding, and there's a pain in their chest they don't recall experiencing before.

Julian takes a seat next to them. “That was… Lucio?”

“His ghost,” they correct.

“You've dealt with him before, I take it.”

“When Nadia first brought me here. I was wandering, his room was calling to me. Turned out to just be him.”

“He was speaking to you, just now?”

“He told me you didn't kill him. But implied I was involved in his death.”

“You?”

“You saw the portrait. You really think I would have willingly debased myself that way? Slung over his lap like I’m nothing more than a pet? I don't even know what truly happened, and the implication is enough for me to want to tear him to shreds.”

Silence stretches over the two for a long while.

“The mark… it matches mine. Did you know?” Julian finally asks.

“I had no idea. I'd never seen that sigil before I came across the notes at your desk.”

“My desk… I had a desk here. In the library.”

“Yes… and?” He and Amaryllis just learned that they might have been Lucio’s murderer, and he's worried about his desk?

“The scene of the crime may have held more answers than we bargained for, but the desk is calling to me. I think we’ll find something there.”

“I've already searched it. I found nothing other than what I brought to you the other night.”

“Humor me.”

Amaryllis can't help but oblige him.

-☽☼☾-

It takes some trial and error for them to find the library, with Julian leading the way, but eventually he finds the hidden door that takes them there. When they enter, it’s empty, and Amaryllis hopes it stays that way.

Julian leads the way to the desk too, muttering all the while. Amaryllis can't catch everything he says, but it sounds as if he's verbally retracing his steps. When he gets there, he starts rapidly digging through the folders, rummaging through the drawers, every so often stopping to glance over a paper.

“Julian, there’s nothing else here.”

“No no no, I swear it, there's something here—“ He knocks at the bottom of a now-emptied drawer, and then pulls out a false panel. “Ah ha! This is it, this is what was calling to me!”

From it, he raises up an old, weathered skeleton key, adorned with red gems in the eyes, in victory. “Don't ask me how I know, but I know. It's not any of these old scrawlings. it's this!” He straightens himself out, tossing the key in the air and catching it before pocketing it. The smile on his face is absolutely beaming.

Amaryllis doesn't see it coming, when all of a sudden he's wrapping his arms around their waist, spinning around with them in his embrace.

“Julian—“

“I’m one step closer, if it wasn't for you, dear Amaryllis, I'd still be two behind!” he exclaims.

He sets them down gently, hands lingering on their shoulders, chest just barely brushing up against theirs.

“About everything. I'm sorry.” he confesses, head dropping. “I don't know what I was thinking, rejecting you like I did—“

Amaryllis places a hand against his chest, pushing him back. “It was for the best, I believe.” They're glad his head is down, because they couldn't possibly bear whatever look it is he has on his face right now.

The sound of the locks on the Library door save them from finding out.

They're dragging Julian away again, and thankfully he follows with just as much haste as them. Back into the hidden hallway, they get the door shut just in time to hear Nadia and Portia’s voices entering the library.

“Well, where do we go from here?” Julian asks, his voice uncharacteristically timid.

“I’ll take you to my quarters. Portia can sneak you back out from there.”

-☽☼☾-

“This is… quite the guest room.” Julian glances around the extravagant room, arms crossed and shoulders slumped.

“It’s not. Apparently Nadia had it picked just for me. But I think I lived here, before.”

Amaryllis finally dares a look at him, his eye hollow as he stares blankly at the bookshelf.

“There's… something here. Calling to me. Like the key.” Julian murmurs, in a daze.

They watch as he paces around the room, seeming to follow whatever special sense he seems to have, searching for the unknown. He stops before a blank panel of wall.

“It’s here.”

“Julian, that's just a wall.”

“No, there's more to it. I know.”

Amaryllis realizes he's standing right before the wall with the hidden panel. They approach, shooing him out of the way before popping it open, pulling out the book that’s been hidden inside. They try to open it again, to no avail, before handing it over to him.

“It’s sealed with magic, so I doubt youll learn anything from—“ they look over to find he already has the cover open. “Oh.”

“It’s… filled with music,” he comments, in awe, as his eye scans the pages.

“Then the spell was cast to only allow you to open it.” It doesn't take much more to piece together that they themself must have done it, long ago. Just another anecdote to add to the ever growing list of evidence linking them to him.

“Why me?” He flips through the pages, until he gets to the middle and an envelope falls, fluttering to the ground. Amaryllis ducks down to grab it, but as soon as their fingers make contact with the parchment, a headache strikes them.

Amaryllis stumbles backwards holding their head, landing on the ground.

Julian crouches down next to them. “Amaryllis, what is it?”

“I'm fine. The letter, what does it say?”

He gets up and steps away, hesitantly, picking up the letter, carefully examining the envelope.

“It’s addressed to me.” He flips it open, pulling out a piece of parchment, eye scanning the page rapidly.

“Well? Who wrote it?”

“You can't see this.”

“Excuse me?” They rise, head still pounding.

“I can’t, in good conscience, show this to you.”

“Oh come on, Julian. I don't need a protector, or a savior. Show it to me, now.”

“This isn't like last night.” He glances up at them, and Amaryllis sees tears falling from his eye. He looks at them in shock, turning away only to wipe at his eye under the patch.

“Please, tell me.”

“No.” He straightens up, clearing his throat and gently folding the letter back up. He places it back within between the pages of the book, shutting it with a gentle thump. “I need to go.”

“Go where? Frolicking around the palace? No, you need to wait for Portia.”

Julian throws his arms up. “No! I need to go think!”

“What was in that letter that’s got you so shaken up? Who wrote it?”

“I won't tell you.” His tone is resolute, more so than they've ever heard him before.

Amaryllis has nothing to say to that. They rise, head feeling better than it did a moment ago, retreating to the other side of the room.

“Julian.” they start, “I won’t say this again. But I wish to help you. However I can. Not because of whatever I believe of your guilt. But because I believe there should be someone on your side, despite the message you've sent me. Guilt is subjective— whatever you may feel you have done that deserves ostracization, might be a righteous belief in another. And besides, Lucio himself said I might be at fault for his death. So it seems you have some competition.”

“Amaryllis… you couldn't have…” Julian mutters.

“And you could? Now you can look at it from my angle. Someone you can look at and see the stars— accused of the apparent worst crime this city has seen in decades.”

“Is that what you see? When you look at me?”

“Against my better judgment,” they admit.

He approaches them, slowly. Amaryllis isn't looking, but they hear the soft thud of him setting down the book, the quiet steps of his boots against the rug. They feel the heat of him at their back. His breath against their neck.

“Amaryllis, I—”

“Don’t,” they spin around, pulling away from the window to face him. “You made your decision. And I've made mine. I'm a fool, for feeling like you broke my heart, after only a few days. But I won't let you do it to me again.”

Julian just stares down at them, his eye tearing up again. He’s just about to speak when the door to their chambers bursts open.

Portia really knows how to time her entrances.

“I had hoped the two of you would be here! I've been looking all over!” she announces, shutting the door behind her. “The Countess is busy with dinner, as is most of the staff. Ilya, I should get you home now.”

“Pasha!” Julian takes a moment to pull himself away from them. “What timing! I was just thinking about how starved I was!”

“If you pick up the pace, I'll bring you to my place for dinner.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Amaryllis, I’d invite you but…” Portia clasps her hands together. “Not only do I need you to make sure milady stays occupied, but you have some guests.”

Amaryllis finally turns to look at Portia. “Guests?”

“It seems the magician Asra and his assistant, Vesper, have come to ‘assist’ in your investigation.”

#amieilya divorced arc #the arcana #amaryllis leroux #julian devorak #portia devorak #amieilya #apprentice amaryllis #fan apprentice #my fic #amie fic

[nvvermore]

Apprenticember: Day 2

Amaryllis & Julian

Amaryllis and Julian’s relationship before the plague is slow to develop. They remain friends for years, and when feelings are finally voiced it’s almost too late for them. Afterwards, Amaryllis’s unexplained draw to him is discomforting, and they take their internal battle out on him. Overall, from the start Julian has a strange way of getting Amaryllis to open up, little by little, and they thoroughly enjoy being the number one instigator in all of his antics. Surprisingly, at the core, they’re a duo on the same wavelength, Amaryllis knows when to give him the emotional vulnerability he needs, and in turn Julian knows when to give them the space they need.

They met ten years pre-canon, at The Rowdy Raven, of course, where Amaryllis first saw him getting his shit wrecked in a bar fight, and afterwards Julian saw them watching from the corner. He was the one who originally told Lucio about their talent as a songstress, and Amaryllis was the one who introduced him to Asra. When Amaryllis came to him once the plague was in full force with their song meant to soothe patients, he saw how well it worked and despite his best instincts, agreed with their proposal to work together. He was there for them when Thana died, when Asra left, and together they came across Ophélie and gave her a home and a family.

#amaryllis leroux #julian devorak #amieilya #apprenticember #apprentice amaryllis

[nvvermore]

Cigarette Kiss

Two truths revealed, and one taken away

[part seven of Come What May]

words: 3k

cw: discussions of memory loss

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

“Alright. I believe you.”

“Huh? I, ah. Wait, really?”

“Really.”

“That’s a terrible idea. You shouldn’t take anyone at their word, least of all me.”

Amaryllis replies with a scoff and an eye roll. So far they’ve only spent maybe an hour total with the bizarre doctor over the past two days, and he's already managed to be quite the piece of work. But it's not like Amaryllis has ever really disliked a bit of extra work, the opposite actually, they welcome it with open arms.

Slowly, they reach up to ghost their long nails over his jaw and Julian clears his throat awkwardly. “But, er, well. I do hope you're satisfied. I would just hate to disappoint you.” He grins, so foolishly triumphant, as if Amaryllis hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes patting him down and calling his every bluff.

Painted lips quirk up into their own patronizing smirk as their nails drag from Julian’s jaw to the back of his neck, other hand coming to rest firmly on the exposed skin in the center of his chest. Amaryllis takes a step closer, then another, until they're finally closing the gap between the two of them.

“I said I believed you, not that I was satisfied.” They feel as though they’re being moved by a force out of their control. All of the composure Julian had managed to build back up since his pat down ended shatters, clear from the way the flush has returned to his cheeks and how he’s biting his lip as he stares down at them. “Now, how do you keep getting in here?”

He grins, sheepish, and breaks away from their hold to reach for his coat, pulling a skeleton key from the breast pocket. Amaryllis snatches it from him, examining the key to confirm that it matches the lock to the shop’s backdoor.

“And would you like to tell me where you got it?” Amaryllis asks, twirling the key between their fingers.

“I wish I could.”

Right. Julian is missing memories too.

Amaryllis reaches past him and slides the key onto the counter. “Well, it seems now is the time to pick back up on our conversation from last night. How much can you not remember?”

“It’s… not that simple.” Amaryllis raises a brow at Julian, urging him to continue. “It’s not like I’m missing massive chunks of time, it's like I'm missing something about the time specifically. The events are there, but the details are fuzzy, like I'm not seeing a clear picture. Except for the night Lucio died. That's a complete blank.”

“‘The night Lucio died’, so you didn’t kill him.” they point out.

“I didn't say that—”

“I think there's much more to the story than either of us know.”

“Why do you even care?”

“I've learned a lot in the past few days. I'm missing memories too. And none of it feels like mere coincidence.”

Emotion overcomes Julian’s expression, and he takes their hand in his. Amaryllis wants to pull away, like they did last night at the Rowdy Raven, but they don't. They need to know why their hand in his feels like a breath of fresh air.

“How much?” he asks, thumb brushing over their knuckles.

“Everything before the last three years. It’s just gone.”

“Three years?”

“I told you, none of this is a coincidence. You, me, the countess, Lucio. Three years prior comes up over and over. There’s remains of a past life that have been left to rot at the palace. I know Asra has answers, but for some reason he can't tell me.” they explain.

A quiet settles over the two of them, Amaryllis watching him as he’s lost in thought, taking in everything they confessed to him.

Still cradling their hand, Julian pulls them closer. “This pull… Us… Do you feel it too?”

“I—“

In lieu of a proper answer, Amaryllis closes the gap between them.

If they'd thought the comfort of just a casual touch from Julian was overwhelming, kissing him is a whole different beast.

Amaryllis hates to be cliché. But if they didn't, they might say that they felt a spark. That kissing him felt like finally coming home after a long time away. Or some other equally sappy metaphor that lovers use.

Julian doesn't miss a beat, immediately wrapping his arms around them, moaning when he finally makes contact. His hands glide over any part of their body he can touch. Running his fingers through their hair, across their back, over their hips, and back up to cradle their jaw. All in such quick succession, like he’s running out of time and just can't decide. It's exhilarating.

But Amaryllis isn't a cliché.

They pull back from him and Julian moves to follow their lips with his, but they hold him in place with a hand on his chest. They glare up at him, offended like it's somehow his fault they kissed him and it made them feel things they weren't prepared to feel. They were prepared for the dull throb that appeared as soon as their lips made contact though, if anything, they were hoping doing so would induce a headache. Their ailment seems to give them more answers than anyone else around here.

“Amie…” The nickname falls from his lips far too naturally, and they're just about to ask him where exactly he heard it when a booming knock on the shop door pulls them from their trance.

In a flash Julian is pulling away from Amaryllis, but instead they push him towards the reading room.

“Stay back here.” Amaryllis orders, not waiting for a response before pulling the curtain back to conceal his presence. As they make their way to the door, they straighten out their skirt and wipe their face with their sleeve, in hopes their lipstick wasn’t a complete disaster.

“Amaryllis! are you in th- Oh!” The opening of the door cuts Portia off, and she steps right into the shop. “Milady’s announcement is soon, I came to-“

Her curious eyes glance all around the shop as she speaks, and once again she cuts herself off by her own sound of surprise. Amaryllis follows her disbelieving gaze, landing on an equally stunned Julian.

“Great job staying put.” Amaryllis quips, but neither pay them any attention at all. Every ounce of Portia’s focus is on Julian, and vice versa, and there’s a tension ready to snap. When she finally speaks, it’s quiet, timid, so unlike anything Amaryllis has heard from her before.

“Ilya?”

The name she utters barely registers with Amaryllis before a jolt of intense pain rushes to their head. They reach back to grip the counter for support as Portia stumbles forward and throws herself at Julian. Struggling to stay upright, Amaryllis can only listen to the conversation.

“Ilya? Is it really you?”

“It’s me.”

“You— You bastard! What are you doing here?!” She lightly smacks him on the shoulder. “Out in the open? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“You’ve grown up strong, Pasha. I’m… sorry I wasn’t there to see it.”

By the sound of the strain of their voices, the both of them are tearing up.

“Ohh, I’ll show you sorry! You unbelievable—” Amaryllis manages to straighten themself out as Portia finally looks at them for the first time since she walked in the door, and they're doing their best to pretend they aren’t currently in excruciating pain. When directed at them, her glare doesn't hold as much bite, but enough to let them know that she's miffed at them too. “Amaryllis?”

“He broke in. I was questioning him.” They shrug. It isn’t a complete lie, but Portia still scoffs and rolls her eyes. She looks back and forth between the two of them, putting the pieces together. Not that they had much time to hide the evidence.

“Yea, I’m sure heavy petting is a great interrogation technique.”

“Oh, it’s my go-to method. It’s quite convincing, isn’t Ilya?” Another jolt of pain, even worse this time, and if Amaryllis was any less practiced at dealing with it silently, they might have collapsed. Portia sighs dramatically, and Amaryllis is starting to put their own pieces together, seeing the familial resemblance between the two.

“I’m taking him back where he belongs,” Portia says, and Amaryllis’s panic must show, because she quickly adds, “to the South End.”

“I see.” They scoop up Julian’s coat and gloves from next to them on the counter, walking over to him carefully. Every step sets off another prick of pain, and they hope neither know Amaryllis well enough to tell. Julian takes his outerwear, movements awkward, like he’s unsure how to bid them farewell.

“In that case,” Amaryllis’s hand cups his jaw, leaning up to whisper in his ear, “until next time.” A kiss is placed on his cheek, the contact casting a glamour spell that honestly, Amaryllis wasn’t sure they even had the strength to cast. “That should conceal you until you’re safe.” It’s not a spell to make him look like anyone different, but to look just like anyone else. To make him a little less obvious in a crowd.

“I’ll meet with you back in the square.” Portia calls as she hauls Julian out the backdoor, not even giving him a moment for his own goodbye, directing him down the alleyway. The door clicks shut a few moments after the two are already long out of sight. Now that they're finally alone, they collapse down into the pile of cushions on the reading room floor.

Surely, it won’t be the end of the world if they miss Nadia’s announcement. And if it is, well that will be future Amaryllis’s problem. Right now, they can do absolutely nothing but lie there and let themself drift off, trying to dwell on anything but thoughts of Julian’s touch and how lovely their name sounds when said with his accent.

-☽☼☾-

It’s the dead of night, and Amaryllis is wandering the palace once more.

When they had returned to their room earlier, after the tedious events of the day— their run-in with Julian, the announcement, meeting the courtiers— there was a package waiting on the coffee table. Addressed to them, in Nadia’s elegant, scrawling cursive.

As soon as Amaryllis opened it to reveal a heart-shaped pendant with an emerald stone in the center, Styx swooped in through the window, chittering incessantly. Right away, they can feel Asra’s magic coursing through the jewel.

“Asra!”

“Asra isn't here, mon petit.”

“Outside! The fountain!”

Amaryllis had recalled a communication spell he’d taught them long ago, using water as a conduit.

And that’s what led them to now, stepping quietly through the hedge maze in the gardens, with Styx leading them to the fountain at the center.

They take the pendant with them, hoping to use it to strengthen the spell that was not normally a piece in their repertoire.

Amaryllis finally reaches the fountain, an extravagant, glimmering piece of art, complete with more goat imagery at the center. They roll their eyes, almost hoping that the damn specter of Lucio is somewhere watching.

They approach the wide pool bordering the flowing water, and Styx rests atop their head, nuzzling into their hair. For a moment, they simply examine the pendant in their hand, curious as to why an item so inexplicably tied to Asra isn't triggering any pain.

With a sigh, Amaryllis focuses their magic, and drops the pendant down into the water below.

Light reflects off of the pendant as it sinks, casting rainbows across the water. As they watch, the colors grow, move, and eventually change into the image of Asra.

He’s stopped to visit some sort of stream, to take a drink and splash some water on his face, made clear by the droplets stuck in his hair and eyelashes. Amaryllis watches as he takes a deep breath, turning his head to glance at his surroundings, before the image of them catches his eye.

“Amie?” he asks, surprised, as if he’s worried he might be hallucinating them entirely.

“Don't look so stunned. My magic isn't all that bad when I want to utilize it fully.”

“I just didn't think you were paying any attention when I was trying to teach you this spell.” he says, the shock melting away into a look of fondness.

“I’m always full of surprises.”

Asra squints, eyeing the scenery behind them.

“Speaking of surprises, you're at the palace?”

“You and Ophélie have missed quite a bit in the last few days.”

Amaryllis gives a brief explanation of the events that took place between his departure and now, omitting the more, personal, details involving Julian. Asra listens intently, and they take in the way his eyes soften when they discuss Nadia, and how he grimaces when mentioning their task to investigate Julian.

“That is… quite a bit. How have you been holding up? Have you had any headaches?”

“What leads you to believe that stepping foot in the palace would induce my headaches? Unless there's something you're not telling me.” Amaryllis teases, causing him to look away, sheepish. “It’s okay Asra. I know.”

He looks back at their reflection, eyes wide, panicked. “You know?”

“I know that I had some sort of life here, before.”

“I—“

“It’s alright, no need to confirm or deny. I have more important questions for you. My first, how are you and Ophélie fairing out there?”

Amaryllis watches the tension drain from his body.

“Things are good, the actual mission hasn't been exactly successful so far, but Lie is still having a great time. She’s asleep now, or I’d have her come say hello.”

“Well, that's good to hear. I've been worried, I don't want her to come back disappointed. And yourself?”

“I’m okay, I just—“ he stops, taking a deep breath. “I just miss you.”

“I miss you too. Perhaps one day you’ll entertain the idea of taking me with you on one of your adventures.”

There’s a lull in the conversation for a moment, the two of them sitting together, but worlds away.

“Amaryllis, I've been thinking.” Asra breaks the silence. “Lie has helped me with some self-reflection, and I think it’s time for me to try to be more honest with you. I know it’s well past due, but you've grown so much. You aren't in the same place you were three years ago.”

Amaryllis stares at him, raising a brow in surprise. Now that confession was not at all what they expected to hear from him.

“Well, you have the perfect timing for a change of heart. I was planning on asking much more than just how the trip was going.”

“Of course you were,” he laughs, “Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

They decide to go easy on him first.

“Who is Julian to you?”

Asra’s expression drops again, much more intense than the grimace from when they mentioned him in passing earlier.

“Why?”

“Did I forget to mention in my anecdote earlier that he’s broken into the shop, at least twice, looking for you? And for some reason he’s convinced himself that you cursed him or something?”

“Amaryllis, you met him?”

“Of course I have. Even if I hadn't been dragged into playing detective, I would have run into the fool at some point anyways. It seems he’s just returned to the city to play fugitive once more.”

He takes a moment to compose himself before speaking.

“Julian was a… friend, once.” He glances away again, the slightest hint of a blush forming on his cheeks. “Then more. And then, something else…”

“Oh? So this is just some ex-lovers quarrel I've been put right in the middle of? I wouldn't have taken him for your type.” Amaryllis teases.

“You think I’m not interested in tall redheads?”

Amaryllis opens their mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. It’s a rarity, for Asra to leave them speechless.

“Anyways,” he continues, leaving his last comment alone, “I know I can't tell you what to do Amaryllis, but, please be careful around him.”

“Is he actually as dangerous as he claims to be?”

“Yes and no.”

“Is he a man capable of murder?”

“I— no. As much of a personal grudge I have against him, I can’t say it's something Ilya is capable of.”

Just like earlier, a stab of pain comes out of nowhere as soon as the name passes Asra’s lips. Amaryllis tries to conceal it, but Asra knows them far too well.

“Amie, what is—“

“Who was he to me?” they blurt out, teeth gritted as they try to ignore the pain.

“I can't, Amaryllis—“

“No, you said you would. I’ve had far worse than this since the moment Nadia stepped foot in the shop. Please, at least try.”

He looks at them, hesitation clouding his brow.

“You loved him.” he sighs. “He loved you too, more than anyone.”

Miniscule dots of white start to appear in their vision, the pain echoing throughout their whole skull. Styx is on alert, taking flight to flutter around them.

“Then why doesn't he remember me?”

“For the same reason you can't remember. It’s all my fault.” Asra confesses, and with it, their vision whites over completely, the pain sending them to their knees in front of the fountain. Vaguely, they can hear Asra screaming their name, and then all of a sudden it feels like he’s right there with them. It’s a comfort, amidst the pain, the worst they've felt in a long time.

A cooling touch is applied to their temples, and Asra is whispering something they can't make out.

“Forget.” Amaryllis hears him command, and then everything goes black.

#amaryllis leroux #the arcana #apprentice amaryllis #julian devorak #asra alzanar #amieilya #come what may #my fics #amie fic #sorry I take back amie and julian fucking during that scene I need them to be mad at him more first #I need the how dare you make me have feelings #anyways back at it again at krispy kreme

[nvvermore]

I have been cranking out writing so that I can get to the point where I can get to vesper and ophélie side stories and now its finally time

#I had to push back when amieilya fucks im sorry mazelinka

[nvvermore]

I know its past halloween but ive had a strong desire to draw amieilya dressing up as chiffany for halloween

#but amaryllis is chucky and julian is tiffany

[nvvermore]

“Ah Ilya, it appears as though all the other seats are taken tonight. But I’ve still got the best one in the house.”

I cannot stop looking at this amieilya commission from @cherrygirl666 !!! Truly it’s so perfect, from the pose to their expressions and all the details!!! All of Amaryllis’s freckles, their scar, their nose, Julian’s hand squeezing their thigh, the lace!!! I love it all so much I die

Again, thank you so so much!!!! 💕💕💕

#the arcana #julian devorak #amaryllis leroux #amieilya #amie art #commissions #just them #insert deranged meme here #spicy #just incase

[nvvermore]

Red Like Roses

The Fool’s nightmare

[part one of Come What May]

words: 1.5k

cw: nightmares; drowning, descriptions of injury and illness, death, plague era

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

Amaryllis is on a beach. They’ve never been on this beach before, but they’ve seen it, they know it.

Their feet are bare, toes dragging through the sand as they walk. It’s dark out— or maybe it’s just the accumulation of smoke and ash in the air— but when they look down they can still see the blood red that stains their fingertips and snakes up their arms.

It feels like it should hurt, that something should hurt. But nothing does. They wonder if it’s due to the pounding they don’t feel when they place their hand over their heart.

But, they suppose that’s what makes this just a dream.

The dream is the same, but different each time. The same beach, the same somber lullaby being sung in the distance. They aren’t the one currently singing it, they don’t know the song, but it's their voice.

And there’s always someone else there, someone they can’t ever seem to save.

Sometimes it’s Ophélie in the water, begging them to join her for a swim, but whenever Amaryllis tries to get in the water the waves grow and crash against the shore until her giggles turn into screams and she’s lost. Sometimes it's Vesper, beneath them, screaming and covered in burns and blood that isn’t his, begging for forgiveness— for what exactly, he never discloses.

More often, it’s Asra. Sometimes, he’s just too far for them to reach. But they see him, just a little ways off, digging with his hands in the sand. Screaming their name, his tears mingling with ash and dirt and blood. He looks in their direction, but he never sees them. Other times, they do get to him, and all seems well until suddenly they start fighting, screaming at each other. They can’t make out what he’s saying, and they don’t know what’s coming out of their mouth, but his tears say more than enough.

There’s people they don’t know, too. At least, people they don’t know anymore, names and faces on the tip of their tongue that they can never seem to recall, even though there’s something that screams at them to remember.

Sometimes there's a woman. She radiates desperation and hopelessness, and Amaryllis always finds themself crying blood-stained tears for her. There's someone they know they’re supposed to know, digging away in the sand. It’s a different type of forget than the others, but they can’t remember him— he doesn’t want them to. A man, with the same red markings as theirs, who begs them not to leave, who begs them for just one more song. There’s an older woman, who holds them and shushes them and tells them it’s going to be okay, but when Amaryllis glances up in an effort to know who she is, they only catch a glimpse of blood red sclera before she vanishes.

And then there’s the man who’s shown up now.

He’s the one Amaryllis sees most often, more than Asra. And yet, they have no name for him.

When he takes off his mask, his eyes are red. When he drops his gloves, his hands are stained too. But it’s not the same red as theirs— instead the crimson drips off of his fingertips and onto the sand below. He’s crying, which hardly phases them anymore. But what does unsettle them is the love in his eyes when he looks up at them.

“I’m so sorry, Amaryllis,” he pleads, and Amaryllis is trying to tell him that it doesn’t matter, that they forgive him, but he isn’t talking to them, he doesn’t actually see them.

He’s talking to their body, motionless, laid out in the sand.

Each time he touches them the blood and the crimson spreads further and further. But he keeps doing so; brushing their hair from their face, folding their arms across their chest, smoothing out the silk of their dress. He’s humming, off-key and off-tempo thanks to his tears, but it’s the same lullaby that they’re always hearing.

It might be their body, but it doesn’t feel like a scene they’re supposed to see.

But they do, and so, so, often.

Whenever they try to touch him, their hands just pass through him, as if they were nothing but a ghost. And maybe they are, what with the way they lay dead before him.

But tonight is different, because when they lay a hand on his shoulder, his head snaps towards them, recognition falling over his features.

“Amaryllis?”

And then, they’re woken up.

They’re nearly toppling onto the floor, gasping desperately for air, calling out for someone they can’t remember, trying to remember the face from their dreams that now escapes them.

There are hands on their shoulders, warm and worn from magic use, and Amaryllis focuses on them, the feeling of safety they bring. They don't feel the need to jerk away like with most touches, instinctively knowing this touch is okay.

Erratic gasps for air begin to even out and their surroundings come back into focus. The gentle voice that’s been cooing soothing words into their ear for the last few minutes now becomes clear.

“...It’s alright, Amie. I’m right here, you’re safe, I swear...“

It’s Asra. The both of them are at home, in their bedroom above the shop. Still in a daze, Amaryllis doesn’t have the headspace to hesitate before they relax further into Asra’s arms. He rubs their back, counting out loud, slow and steady. Up to three, back down again, repeat. Amaryllis breathes in time with his voice.

“It was just a dream…” Amaryllis murmurs after a few minutes.

Asra shakes his head in disagreement. “No, it was a nightmare. Dreams are good things.” Amaryllis only hums softly in response. As far as they were concerned, both could be equally bad.

Now that their mind is clear, not only does the vulnerable position the two of them are in fully dawn on them, but so does the traveling coat over his shoulders, his packed bags near the door. It’s freezing when they pull away from his embrace.

“It doesn’t matter what it was, it’s over now.” Amaryllis stands from the bed, the thin satin of their nightgown sliding back down around their hips.

“Amaryllis, you’ve woken up in a panic like this every night for the past week.”

The worn wooden floor creaks as they pad across it. “It’s been longer than that.”

“I didn’t realize.”

“Because you haven’t been here.” It’s a simple statement, a fact, that they do their best to keep emotion out of.

Asra merely sighs. “I woke you so we could say goodbye. It’s nearing midnight.”

Amaryllis glances back at him. He’d barely been back a week from his last trip, when yesterday he announced he’d be taking Ophélie with him on a trip north— some magical hotspot in hopes of kickstarting any latent magic abilities she might have. And as glad as they were that he was taking her, and that they were allowed to know his destination for once, it still stung to have him gone so much.

It’s a vicious cycle between them. Amaryllis bitter because he’s always enigmatic and flighty, Asra always walking on eggshells because of their bad attitude and desire to just make him talk. They feel like they've tried too much, to no avail. Tried so much that they’ve given up.

“Well then. I’m sure Ophélie is quite eager.” Amaryllis manages a smile.

“That’s an understatement,” he laughs, and for a moment the air is light again. They stand before their armoire, picking up their discarded clothing from earlier in the day.

“Hopefully this helps her magic, she has to have some. And even if not, I’m sure it feels nice to get out of the city.” Amaryllis pulls their nightgown over their head, tossing it in the hamper, next to Asra’s pile of dirty laundry. “When will Vesper return from wherever you sent him this time?”

Asra is silent, and they hardly have to look at him to know how he’s looking at them. Amaryllis isn’t shy in the slightest, and they share most things after all, but Asra can’t be sly in all of his exploits. They turn and clear their throat and his eyes quickly flit away from their chest, cheeks dusted pink.

“Ugh… He was supposed to be back two days ago,” he finally answers.

Amaryllis fixes him with a glare. “What do you mean he was supposed to be back two days ago?”

“I know he’s fine! He just has a” —he makes quotations in the air with fingers— “friend near where he’s at is all. I’m sure he’s just busy.”

“Well then, at least one of us is getting some.” Amaryllis slips their skirt over their hips, enjoying Asra’s choked off laughter. Wordlessly, but still fighting the grin on his face, Asra steps forward to lace their bodice up in the back.

“I’ll be back down for farewells in a moment.” Asra nods, and with a light brush to their shoulder, he scoops up his bags and disappears down the stairs.

As they lean down to slip on their boots, they finally acknowledge the headache coming on.

#here we go boys #the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #amaryllis leroux #julian route #julian route rewrite #apprentice amaryllis #come what may #amieasra #amieilya #amie fic

[nvvermore]

The Dark I Know Well

Amaryllis offers a new beginning, and Ophélie provides a new light

words: 4.5k

cw: implications of sexual assault and abuse, plague setting, descriptions of injury and illness, themes of death and grief

this fic deals specifically with the aftermath and recovery from sexual assault and abuse, but there is no graphic content. emphasis on the recovery aspect, this story is not angst so much as hurt/comfort

-☽☼☾-

“Amie, there’s supposedly a child at the residence,” Julian speaks up as he and Amaryllis are gearing up for a house call. They’ve only been working alongside him for just over a week now, and he's still hesitant as ever. “It might be better if you sit this one out.” He’s already had them sit several out.

“Ilya,” Amaryllis sighs, continuing to do up the buttons on their coat. “I've told you how many times now, I didn’t walk into this blindly. I know what to expect, and I know how nasty it gets.” When they glance over to Julian, he quickly looks away. He knows they do, and they hardly have to explain how no plague death could scar them anymore than Thana’s has. They also know he knows just how important this is to them, so important that they'd all but chosen this over Asra.

He slips on his gloves. “I know, it’s just— it’s hardest to stomach when it’s children.”

“And I’m sure it's hardest for them, and I can help ease their suffering.” Infection rates among children were exceptionally low— a relief, but children were facing a different issue now that so many of them were being orphaned. Amaryllis shakes their head. “Besides, for all we know the child is fine, and in need of a different kind of support. They’re the ones who shouldn’t be witness to any of this.”

Amaryllis goes to slide their mask over their face— the beak stuffed with dried rose and lavender— but just before they do their eyes find Julian once more. He’s looking at them too, and with such unbridled affection, and it's harder to stomach than any plague. Abruptly they turn from his view, bringing their mask down.

His voice is muffled by his own mask. “I should know better by now than to attempt to dissuade you from doing what you’ve got your heart set on.”

-☽☼☾-

It's a short walk from Julian’s clinic through the South End, spent in an uncomfortable silence. These days, Julian hardly has the energy to fill it anymore. The sky is sunless, the markets are quiet, the roads muddy from the on-and-off spring rain.

“It’s just up here,” Julian mutters from behind the mask, nodding towards the shoddy townhouse to the left. All seems quiet as the pair approach, until they get close enough to notice the lump curled up on the stoop. Said lump peers up at them, mostly concealed by a tattered blanket, except for two very green— and healthy — eyes. This must be the child.

“It’s the first bedroom, straight down the hall,” she mumbles casually,  stumping the both of them. When Amaryllis turns to him he nods, giving their shoulder a squeeze before slipping past the girl and through the front door.

The girl continues to stare up at Amaryllis, her expression an odd combination of curiosity and fear. They remove their mask and sit down across from her on the stoop.

“What’s your name, dear?”

She turns their way, the blanket sliding down to reveal flaxen hair and pale cheeks. She doesn’t look sad so much as she looks empty. Amaryllis is familiar with that look.

“It’s... Ophélie,” she says, like she's surprised they’d asked at all.

“Hello Ophélie, that’s a very pretty name. I’m Amaryllis.”

“Yours is a very pretty one.” The corners of her mouth upturn just slightly.

“Thank you,” Amaryllis gives her a proper smile in return. “How old are you, chérie?”

“I just turned fourteen.” That's certainly not what Amaryllis would have guessed. Her huddled up form is so tiny, so fragile looking.

“Your parents, I’m sorry—” Ophélie cuts them off.

“I’m not,” she spits, and then looks horrified she’d said it at all. Amaryllis is careful not to show the distress they feel for her.

“You know, I was only a little older than you are now when I ran away from my parents.”

Ophélie sits up quickly, the blanket falling off of her head. Her eyes are wide, red-rimmed and with bags far too dark for someone so young. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Because, I want you to know I understand. If I had heard news of my parents’ deaths, I wouldn’t be sorry either. I’d be glad.”

She shakes her head and frowns. "But it’s so—“

“Wrong? Evil?” Amaryllis offers, and she nods. “But is it really? Is feeling that way a worse offense than the treatment you’ve received to make you feel this way?”

“But it’s different! I’m not just not sorry, but I wanted it to happen! I’ve been waiting for it to happen!” Her voice cracks and she throws her hands up, frustrated, and the blanket slips from her shoulders. Amaryllis notices the bruises right away, the majority of her forearms discolored, just beginning to fade from purple to yellow. Ophélie looks at them like they have all the answers, like she needs someone to tell her it's okay.

“That makes no difference,” Amaryllis nods to her arms. “I wouldn’t blame you even if you carried out the deed yourself.”

“I've always been too weak to even fight back.”

Amaryllis understands her so much that it hurts. They don't know how to handle this, what else to say. They’ve only ever pushed down their own emotions, and that isn't what Ophélie deserves. What was it they needed when they were in her shoes? Who did they turn to? For years, they had no one. Not until Thana found them, took them in, took care of them. Somehow she’d been able to get Amaryllis to warm up to her so quickly, with all of her love and kindness and understanding.

They slip off their gloves, and hold their hands out to Ophélie, just as Thana did for them once upon a time. “No, I promise that you’re very strong.” She looks almost confused, eyes darting back and forth between their hands and face. Slowly she reaches out to them in return, and they take her hand in theirs.

-☽☼☾-

When Julian reappears from the house, he confirms what Ophélie already knew. Once the proper protocols are taken care of, it takes almost no effort to convince her to come back with them to the clinic. She’d left without even a parting glance, or with anything but the blanket around her shoulders and the nightgown on her back. She seemed relieved— excited even— on the walk there, asking Amaryllis all about magic and singing, chattering enough to rival Julian during better days.

Her nervousness only returns once she’s sitting up on the examination table, unable to sit still as she swings her legs and waits patiently for Julian to finish scribbling down her vitals. He’s sure to be extra gentle while he works— not that he’s ever not gentle, but Amaryllis notices the subtle way his composure slips when he realizes the extent of what’s happened to her. He’s nervous, an emotion that doesn’t often come up while working.

 Julian hands the clipboard off to Amaryllis and they glance down at his notes. After years of putting up with his disastrous script, deciphering it comes effortlessly. To them, her vitals seem to be in normal ranges, but he’s underlined her height and weight.

“Now, I only wish to help you, so if for any reason you become uncomfortable, I need you to let me know. Can you do that, dear?” She takes a deep breath in and exhales through her nose, nodding. “Wonderful. Now, when was the last time you had a check-up?”

“I’ve never,” Ophélie murmurs, mouth turning down into an embarrassed grimace.

“That’s alright, there’s no need to fret,” Julian assures her with a soft smile.

He goes through the motions. Listening to her heart and lungs, pressing along her neck and abdomen, checking ears, eyes, and mouth. The bruises on her arms aren’t the only ones, and they’re accompanied by some scratches and scrapes. He asks her questions about her injuries and health— about her assault too, and Amaryllis quietly jots down notes.

But nothing is broken or sprained, not a single sign of the plague, no physical injuries Amaryllis can’t manage to heal. There is something that Julian isn’t mentioning though, because once he’s concluded the exam he takes back the clipboard promptly excuses himself. Surely, he’ll have an explanation later.

But for now, Amaryllis gets Ophélie settled into the infirmary. “I’m going to do my best to heal you, and then you need to get some rest.”

Ophélie looks at them curiously as she settles down onto the comfy patient bed. “What do you mean by ‘do your best’?”

“I’m not very skilled at healing,”  Amaryllis confesses, holding out their hands for her once again. This time there’s no hesitation before Ophélie places her hands in theirs. “I can handle bumps and bruises, but I’m not usually able to fix anything worse than a sprain.”

“Do you practice a lot?” She watches intently as Amaryllis slowly runs their hands over the bruises on her arms, eyes shut and focusing on invoking their magic. Slowly, the marks fade to yellow, then to brown, before disappearing without a trace. Ophélie takes her arms back, looking over them in astonishment.

“I used to practice healing where I could, but it’s been years.”

“Well that’s your problem,” she says, and then after a moment gasps. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Amaryllis can’t help but laugh at her bluntness. It’s refreshing. “Practice makes perfect after all. But when it comes to magic, people have their strengths and weaknesses. I struggle with healing and flames no matter how hard I try. But on the other hand, I’ve been using incantations before I even understood what they were.” Ophélie nods her head and hums, letting Amaryllis adjust her around as needed to access her injuries.

“Do you think I could be a healer?”

“You’d just have to try and find out.” Ophélie’s responding smile is radiant and overjoyed. “But not right now, magic takes lots of energy, especially when you don’t yet know what you’re doing.” Amaryllis steps back. “Did I miss anywhere?”

Her eyes scan over her arms and legs and she presses at spots on her torso that had been bruised. “I don’t think so I… I feel a lot better. Thank you very much.” Ophélie peers up at them with glassy eyes.

“There’s no need to thank me, cherié.” Amaryllis shuffles about the room, laying out extra blankets and a change of clothes. “Now, you should get some rest.” Just before Amaryllis turns away, they catch how Ophélie’s face drops. “What’s wrong? I’ll just be in the other room if you need anything.”

She chews on her lip. “It’s not that, I just. Don’t sleep. Or I do, I’m actually really sleepy I’m just not supposed to be,” she explains, her voice small.

“Well, you can, and should, sleep as much as you need to.” Amaryllis lifts the covers, and motions for her to lie down, gently tucking her in once she has. Ophélie sighs happily under the weight of all the covers. “I can help you fall asleep, but I want your permission first. I have magic that I use to put you to sleep, and relieve any anxiety they might be experiencing, and it can also keep nightmares away. It’s not permanent, and it’s not intended to keep you asleep so much as keep things from waking you once you are. Does that sound okay?”

 “Yea, that sounds really nice.” Ophélie nods, bundling deeper into all of her covers. “How do you make it work?”

Amaryllis sits down at her bedside. “It’s a lullaby.” 

Her face lights up. “Oh, that’s amazing! Okay, I’m ready! I want to hear it!”

“Alright then,” they chuckle, so endeared by how quickly she finds joy in even the littlest things around her. “I’ll have to show you more songs once you wake.” She nods and quickly shuts her eyes tight, but her smile doesn’t fade. With a deep breath, Amaryllis begins to sing softly.

“Quand le vent frais vient danser, la rivière chante pour ne pas oublier…”

-☽☼☾-

Ophélie was out cold before Amaryllis even finished the second verse. They’re fairly certain that it was less the result of their magic and more due to the sheer exhaustion she must feel.

When they find Julian, he’s at his desk with his head in his hands. Walking around to stand behind his chair, Amaryllis rests their hands on his shoulders. He jumps, the tiniest amount, and then sighs, long and hard.

“What’s wrong, Ilya?”

Julian sighs, running his hands through his already mussed curls and down his face. He then tilts his head back, resting against Amaryllis’s stomach, looking up at them. “She reminds me of my sister— or, what I suppose she’d be like.”

“Mine too,” they admit. This isn’t the first time they’ve heard about Pasha, but this is the first time they’ve ever mentioned their own siblings. Julian’s eyes fly open, and Amaryllis can practically see all the questions forming in his mind.

“You have a sister?”

“Two. And a brother.” They decide to give answers before he even bothers to voice his questions. “The twins are about the same age as Ophélie, and my older sister, well—“ Amaryllis cuts themself off. “That’s a different story.” Julian raises a brow, curious. And of course he is, with as enigmatic as they’ve been with even him for the past six years. “But the twins— Lottie and Verdell— I took care of them like you did your sister.”

Julian looks at them the same way they’d caught him doing so earlier, how he looks at them most of the time, how he always has. With so much fondness, and if they weren’t in the middle of all this, they’re certain they would have given in by now. Would lean down and kiss the frown off of his lips over and over until he was too preoccupied to think about anything but them.

And they can’t pull away from him now, can’t quite resist running their hands up from his shoulders and dragging their fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter shut and he groans, and the sound snaps Amaryllis out of whatever trance they’ve fallen into. They pry themself away from him, eyes purposely locked onto the papers on his desk so that they don’t have to witness the disappointment they know is on his face. If they aren’t careful, they’ll get addicted to that sound.

Amaryllis rushes to change the subject, an attempt to dissolve the tension. “So, what’s the diagnosis?” They lean over the desk to get a closer look at the notes he’d added on to what they’d written earlier. “She healed up just fine, and let me sing her to sleep. I think she’ll be out a while.”

“I’m sure she needs it. And a good meal, or ten.” Julian sighs. “She’s malnourished, I don’t think it’s reached a fatal level, but it’s clearly affected her development, and the damage isn’t always reversible.” He collects up the papers, scanning them over as he explains. “For a teenager of her height, her weight is technically in the appropriate range. But alongside her other symptoms— easily injured, prolonged healing, low body fat, absence of a menstrual cycle at her age. Her reported symptoms of fatigue, chills, anxiety, depression. Frankly, it’s a wonder she hasn’t contracted the plague.”

Amaryllis isn’t exactly surprised that this is an issue. “So then how do you treat all of this?”

“I believe it stems from neglect and not a deeper issue like illness.” He tosses the papers back down, his voice losing composure. “What she really needs is to be taken care of, as children should be. And on top of the neglect she was assaulted, I just—“ He chokes back a sob. Amaryllis is back at his side in an instant, hands rubbing up and down his arms soothingly.

“Ilya, it’s awful, I know.” They hold him while he cries— and the tears aren’t just for Ophélie, but for all the things he’s seen since the plague picked up, since all this death and misery became their new normal. “But we’re here for her, we can help her.”

-☽☼☾-

The next day, while Julian is busy making his rounds, Amaryllis takes Ophélie to the shop. She’s already looking much better, showered and dressed in a clean gown. She’d slept twelve hours straight, and when she woke showed that she had no issues with a lack of appetite, a sign Julian was grateful for. Her mood has only continued to improve too, and if Amaryllis thought she was chatty yesterday, today is a whole different story.

After so long, a heavy burden has finally been lifted from her shoulders. Her resilience is… inspirational.

Once Amaryllis has unlocked the door and lifted the protection spell and the two step inside, Ophélie goes quiet. She’s looking in every direction, lips parted in complete amazement.

“This is the shop, and upstairs is the apartment.” And surely having heard their arrival, two dark balls of fluff dash towards them from around the corner. “And this Pandora and Styx.”

Ophélie gasps, dropping down to the floor to shower the Pandora with pets, while Styx flutters around her head chittering. “Oh hello! It’s very nice to meet you!” she greets. Amaryllis watches as she continues to coo and make kissy noises, pleased to see her still at ease here.

“Styx, Pandora, this is Ophélie. She’s going to be your new roommate.”

‘New friend!’ Styx chitters away in Amaryllis’s head.

“Styx says he’s very happy to meet you, and I assume Pandora feels the same.”

She gasps again. “Wait, you can talk to them? Is it magic?”

“Styx is my familiar, so we can communicate. Pandora isn’t, so she can’t speak to me directly, but we do have a strong connection,” they explain.

“Oh, that is so incredible!”

“Pandora, why don’t you give her the grand tour?” The fluffy black cat mews an affirmative, nudging Ophélie back onto her feet to lead her around. With a smile, Amaryllis takes the opportunity to tidy up, put away the groceries and other necessities they’d brought back, listening to the excited chatter of her singsong voice. They hear her ask Styx very politely not to eat her, but that if he really needed to she’d allow it because he was cute.

 Of course, as soon as they get upstairs themself, Ophélie has a million questions— and surprisingly enough Amaryllis finds themself happy to answer. She gestures to the mantle, where there's all sorts of frames displaying all sorts of photos.

“Who is this? You all look so happy.” She smiles, gazing fondly at a specific photo, one that happens to be Amaryllis’s favorite. Asra on their left, Julian on their right, a candid photo taken by Thana in the kitchen one day. Ophélie was right; they were so happy then.

“That’s… our friend Asra,” they pause, “he used to live here with me, but he’s traveling right now.” At least, that’s the simplest way to put it.

Eventually, she finds her way into the reading room. “How about I show you some magic, a tarot reading?” Amaryllis asks, already pulling out their deck.

“Please!” She squeaks, but then her face falters and her eyes narrow. “What is tarot?” Amaryllis explains briefly as they sit around the reading table. Once they’ve spread out the cards and look up to Ophélie, they’re hit with a sense of overwhelming familiarity.

“Choose three,” Thana instructs.

The first, Three of Cups— reversed.

“In the past, you’ve indulged in frivolity while things were in shambles around you, and in turn isolated yourself, as punishment. Whether or not it was righteous, I cannot tell you.”

The second, the Fool— upright. Thana goes silent for a moment.

“As of now, you've set foot on a new adventure, that much is obvious. But you’ve been blessed with a freedom you’ve never seen before, filled with unlimited potential. There's much for you to learn, and it's up to you to seek the experience you need without chaining yourself to the past. The Fool also warns against too much spontaneity—“ She smiles, “it seems they have much to offer me in regards to you.”

The third, the Sun— reversed.

“And for the future. She tells me the choice between upright or reversed was a difficult one to make, but that you must hear this message. The Sun echoes the Fool’s message of your innocence. Don’t let it lead your thoughts dichotomously, as the inability to see what is already right in front of you will do you no favors going forward, and if left unaddressed for too long may be a detriment to an important decision. Don’t let yourself fall into depths too deep to manage.”

Amaryllis remains quiet, letting all they were just told wash over them. It’s jarring, the accuracy in which she’d laid everything out. Their first instinct is to fear for the future— even if they're certain that’s exactly what they were warned against.

Thana reaches out across the table and the cards to take Amaryllis’s hands in hers. “Nothing I’ve relayed to you is set in stone, readings are merely meant as a guide to clarity. What you needed to hear isn’t what you wanted to hear, and it’s okay to be frightened. But I have faith in you, Amaryllis, and will always be here to help you take your fate into your own hands.”

The deck they used now is the very same deck that was used then, left to Amaryllis by Thana. But since her death, without her here to guide them, they hadn’t done a single reading. Amaryllis’s ability for divination was nowhere near as strong as hers— their readings were always vague and short, they didn’t have the level of clarity she or even Asra had. She’s the one who should be the one doing this reading. How could Amaryllis figure out how to pick up Ophélie’s broken pieces if they couldn’t even manage their own?

But they can’t let her down, and now isn’t the time to wallow in their sorrow.

Amaryllis takes a deep breath. “Now, pick three, but don’t flip them,” they instruct.

Ophélie nods, wide eyed, and chooses quickly.

Then, the first card is flipped.

“This, is Three of Swords in the upright position,” they explain. “This card is representative of your past.”

“It’s so pretty,” Ophélie interjects, and surely she has to be one of the only people to react in such a manner to such a card. It surely doesn’t help to improve their mood to see it now.

“It speaks of the suffering that you’ve faced— no, that you’ve endured. That the sorrow you’ve felt is important.”

Ophélie nods quietly.

When Amaryllis flips the second card, they’re suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of comfort that threatens to bring them to tears.

“Death, upright,” Ophélie reads before they even have a chance to. She scrunches her nose and frowns.

“Don’t worry, Death is our friend,” they assure her, still trying to decipher everything that Death has to say. And she has so much to say, too much, and they can’t possibly relay it all in the way she tells it. So instead, Amaryllis fits it into their own words. “The darkest hour, of the darkest night comes right before the sun.”

Ophélie smiles, bright as the sun itself, and that’s when Amaryllis realizes that Thana is here with them, has been here all along. That she will always be guiding them. 

The last card is flipped.

“Nine of Swords, reversed. This card is for the future.”

“I think that the swords are really cool,” she comments, to Amaryllis’s amusement.

“It represents your recovery, but not without hard work. You have so much grief, and in that grief lies shame and conflict. But the hope you hold in your heart is so much stronger than the voices that seek to keep you down, so don’t let them silence you.”

When Ophélie finally speaks, she seems uncharacteristically composed, her words firm, as if she was refusing to give anyone the room to argue.

“Then, I know that everything is going to be okay.”

-☽☼☾-

Later that night, after Julian has arrived and is in the kitchen helping Ophélie— who insists she doesn’t need help, but he assists her anyways— prepare dinner. Amaryllis take the chance to step away. They’d be lying if they tried to claim the domesticity of it all didn’t get to them. The last time Julian was here cooking, and every time before that, Asra was here too. The two of them spending the time teasing Amaryllis for not helping, but never actually asking them to do so. The longing glances and knowing looks shared between the three of them.

But overall, the reading left them strangely content. More than they’d been in a very, very long time. And while their head and heart were clear, the answers to their pain fresh in their mind, they had a mess to clean up.

Up in the bedroom— the only place Amaryllis had asked Ophélie to avoid— was the strewn about evidence of their desperation. 

Books on necromancy, the Arcana, blood magic, dark arts, and more books to decipher the languages the books were written in. Some of them had already been among the shop’s small collection, some had been “borrowed” from the palace library, and some procured from the steadily declining Red Market. Among the books are dozens of frantic notes they’d written during their research over the last several months. Notes on how to bring someone back.

Amaryllis drags out an old chest from the closet, tossing its former contents about the room. They gather everything up and stow it all away, every last book and notepad and artifact. The chest is then locked with an intricate protection spell, and on top of it they cast another. The second spell is meant specifically to keep them from unlocking it. 

 The chest is then shoved into the back of the closet, to be forgotten about.

Thana didn’t need to come back, because she’d never left. And she likely wouldn’t have appreciated Amaryllis messing with such magic anyways. But they had been so distraught, unable to see through their grief, between her death— all of the death. Asra’s departure was the tipping point.

But when they step back into the kitchen to find not only Ophélie giggling up a storm, but Julian too. To see him smile like he used to, for the first time in such a long time, it makes them bold in a way they haven’t been in a long time either.

So as Amaryllis listens to Ophélie explain what exactly was so funny, they slide up beside him and wrap an arm around his waist. When in turn he leans down to kiss the top of their head, the gesture echoes Ophélie’s takeaway from their reading earlier.

Everything is going to be okay.

#i worked stupid hard on this #anyways #this can be heavy but it i think the themes of recovery and moving forward outweigh that #but still take care of urselfs #this may have been healing for me but thats not for everyone <3 #amaryllis leroux #ophélie rozaliya #julian devorak #amie fic #ophélie fic #amieilya #just some pining u know how it is w them #my fic

[nvvermore]

amieilya doodle uwu

#the arcana #julian devorak #apprentice amaryllis #amieilya #my art #amaryllis leroux #need. to draww more julians #nvverart #amie art

[nvvermore]

Into You

Amaryllis delivers on the promise they made the last time they were alone with Julian

words: 1536

cw: blood/injury

NSFW: oral sex, deep throating, pain play, dirty talk, semi-public sex, cum swapping

accompaniment

—

“It seems you aren’t afraid of danger,” Amaryllis taunts.

“Afraid of danger? Why, Amaryllis, I live for it,” Julian throws his arms out wide. “Positively enchanted by danger, I am.”

“Is that so? And pain doesn’t scare you either?” they ask, even though they’re more than certain they’ve guessed the correct answer by now.

“Why should it? In my line of work, you can't be afraid of a little pain. One might say I have… intimate knowledge of it.”

“’Intimate knowledge’, hmm?” Amaryllis places a hand on his waist and takes a step forward, pressing lightly at the wound. Julian swallows, and then grins at them.

“Oho. Are we dancing? What, er. What’s your position? Tango? Waltz?” They take another step, pressing fully at the wound now. “I’ve heard you dance an excellent polka-” The injury hardly seems lethal, and while Amaryllis is no healer, they can sense how the wound is slowly mending on it’s own. His pain level is indicated by the way Julian bites his lip and makes a muffled noise as his back hits the shoddy brick and Amaryllis crowds him against it.

His visible gray eye is clouded with desperation as he looks down at them. “S-so, not the waltz then. Pity, I've been known to cut a rug-“ Amaryllis presses down on the bite, the blood soaking through his shirt staining their fingertips, and he moans.

Oh, he likes the pain alright.

His fingers dig into their shoulder, gripping them like a lifeline as he starts to slide down the wall. “Amaryllis-“

“Ah ah, stay on your feet, Ilya.” It’s a risk, using his given name, what with the way it sent them into a fit of pain yesterday at the shop. “I have an idea, if you’ll hear it.”

“Anything for you,” he gasps out.

“Good boy,” they purr. “Remember yesterday, what I said I’d do to you next time?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“I should hope not.” If they were being honest, they hadn’t either. “Now, gloves off. I want to feel your hands in my hair.”

“I um, are you sure this is the best time, the guards-“ Amaryllis’s free hand trails down to palm at the visible hardness in his trousers.

“Then, you’d better stay quiet and come quickly.” Julian nods, and strips off his gloves and drops them onto the ground. “You remember the word I gave you?”

He nods again. “Yes, ‘hemlock’- I don’t mean it right now thou-“ The beginnings of his rambling is cut off by Amaryllis dropping to their knees before them. “Ohhhh...”

“I’m never the one who gets down on their knees,” Amaryllis’s hands remain exactly as they were, every so often applying pressure to both his side and his cock. “But, this gown is a lost cause anyways,” they lock their ruby gaze onto his flushed face, “and I can’t deny that you’re special.”

Then, Amaryllis leans forward and begins to undo the fastenings at his waist with their teeth. Above them Julian gasps, and they feel his hands hover above their head for a moment before— so gently— threading his long fingers into their crimson hair. As efficient as they are, it's only a moment until the sash at his waist drops to the ground and they’re untucking his blouse and pulling his cock from his pants. Normally, they’d prefer to tease him much more thoroughly, but this wasn’t the time. It could be the right place though, another time, when they weren’t running from guards.

“Oh, gods,” Julian breathes, and his grip in their hair tightens.

“Remember, be quiet, lest the guards catch us,” they whisper, and he nods, expression shifting into something even more debauched. “Oh, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Unbeknownst to him, Amaryllis casts a simple silencing spell over the two of them. Certainly they don’t expect him to be capable of actually staying quiet without anything in his mouth to keep him that way.

With one hand, Amaryllis begins to stroke him, teasingly slow and wine-colored lips teasingly close.

“Getting caught with your cock in my mouth, I’m sure it would be quite the surprise.” Their thumb passes over his slit, and Julian is already failing at keeping quiet. “I’m sure some of them would love to stop and watch.” Amaryllis ghosts their lips ghost down his shaft. “And I bet some would even want to join in.” In an instant they go from slow and teasing, to swiftly running the flat of their tongue up the underside of his cock, swirling it around the head. Julian groans, only slightly muffled by how hard he’s biting his lip.

“If you’d let them, perhaps they could be persuaded to spare you. You could switch places with me, get on your knees, hm?” Julian looks as though he’s going to offer some sort of response, but he’s cut off by Amaryllis taking him into their mouth. Instead, he can only cry out, pulling a hand from their hair to cover his mouth with. They hum, before pulling off with a ‘pop’. “Did I say you could take your hands off of me?”

“Ah, no, I- I’m sorry.” he stammers out, replacing his hand. As punishment— albeit not a very good one— they press down hard on his side. This time, he bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Amaryllis wraps their spit-slick lips around him again, looking up at him through their long lashes with cheeks hallowed. In one swift movement, they take him fully, the tip brushing their throat, and Julian let out a string of swears above them. He avoids looking in their eyes, and when they swallow around him, he pulls on their hair and they moan at the feeling, setting him off over and over again.

They pull off of him, leaving behind messy smears of lipstick. “Already so close? After only a few minutes? Perhaps I should draw this out some more.”

Julian finally looks down at them, growing even more flushed at the sight of Amaryllis mouthing at his cock so casually. “No, I- please, you feel so good,” he pleads.

“Hmmm…” Amaryllis hums with their lips on him. Lazily, they swirl their tongue around him, shallowly taking him in and only giving him a few short bobs of their head. Just when he seems like he’s least expecting it, they suddenly sink down on him until their nose brushes against the neat auburn curls at his base.

“Ahh, you’re so good, your mouth is so perfect-“ Not that Julian would know, but his words flip something of a switch for Amaryllis. They start to suck him off in earnest, all while putting more and more pressure on his side. His knees seem to threaten to buckle, and thank the gods they had the foresight to cast that silencing spell, because he also forgets any attempt to stay quiet. More praises and moans fall from his lips, and they do well to encourage Amaryllis, and they wrap their other hand around him to pump in tandem with the slick drag of their mouth.

And it isn’t much longer at all until he comes, his cry even louder and more wanton than he’d sounded yesterday. Amaryllis is careful not to waste or swallow a single drop of his cum, pleased to savor the bitter taste. Julian’s chest is still heaving, dazed and out of breath as they rise to their feet and wrap their arms around him.

When he opens his eye, Amaryllis opens their mouth, tongue lolling out carefully to show off. Julian seems to read their mind then, and before they can kiss him, as planned, instead he crashes his lips against theirs. He wastes no time in slipping his tongue past their lips to chase a taste of himself in their mouth. They exchange sloppy kisses until all his cum is swallowed by one of them.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” Julian says between pecks to their lips, “this is the second time you’ve, um, brought me to finish so quickly, I promise I’m not always like this.”

“Oh even if you were, I like it.”

Just like during yesterday’s afterglow, their kisses gradually turn from heated to leisurely, Julian boneless against them. Amaryllis runs their fingers over the spot at his side, relieved to find no sign of the previous wound.

Amaryllis would be content to stay here longer, see what other trouble they could get up to together. But of course, it isn't much longer until armored footfalls are heard from the street right outside the garden.

“Well, time to go,” Amaryllis whispers against his lips.

“But what about me getting on my knees?” Julian jokes, though they’re certain he really would enjoy such a thing. Maybe, after they solved all his problems, they could arrange for such a scene. Amaryllis rolls their eyes at him as they refasten his belts and collect his gloves.

“I want you on your knees before me,”

“Oh, oh… That’s a much better idea than-“ he clears his throat. “Come, I know a place we can lay low for a while.”

They take his offered hand. “Lead the way, Ilya.”

#amaryllis’s canon route is just turning out to be how often can they fuck him #thats the only difference from the game #and they’re more of a bitch #the arcana #amaryllis leroux #julian devorak #amieilya #spicy #lemon #amie fic #still too tired for tags #my fic #posting this before 2pm proud of myself

[nvvermore]

“We’ll see each other again” kiss for Amieilya!

43. “We’ll see each other again” kisses

[mildly suggestive under the cut]

────────────────────

“What exactly is it that they need you for again?” Nervously, Amaryllis traces the edge of the red-inked tattoo on their wrist.

“I'm... not exactly sure. The only solid details Valdemar has given me is that I'm needed…” Julian trails off for a moment, taking a deep breath before he continues. “I'm needed downstairs for the next week or more. There aren't many doctors left these days, so I can only assume it's for, well,” he trails off again. Amaryllis is well aware of the implications of what exactly Valdemar needs Julian for.

“Ilya, I—” Amaryllis begins, not quite sure where to begin. They're uncomfortable with Valdemar, with whatever it is they do downstairs, with how long they're keeping Julian down there for.

“And,” Julian interrupts, “Lucio has requested that you oversee his care while I'm preoccupied.”

Amaryllis rolls their eyes. “Oh, of course he did.” They flop back onto the bed. “He's going to run me ragged.”

“I thought you were warming up to him?” Julian jests, sitting down gently beside their spread-out form.

“I'm not.” Amaryllis sighs. “He just… reminds me of someone.” Absentmindedly, they ghost their fingers over the scar across their cheek, not even realizing what they're doing until Julian covers their hand with his. Then, he leans forward to place a kiss on said cheek. He knows exactly what they mean, and they're grateful he doesn't need them to say a word.

He worries at his lip for a moment. “How about, when I’m back from— well, when I’m back, we take a break.”

“You? Take a break? I have to charm you just to make you go to bed.”

“You don't need to do anything to get me into bed.” Julian waggles his eyebrows, smiling his dopey grin, and Amaryllis playfully pushes him away. He falls back onto the bed with all the dramatics he can muster. “But mean it, Amie. Maybe…” He turns towards them, cupping their cheek and running his thumb across their freckled skin. “...We go find Asra? Or, maybe you already know where he is, and in that case we just go, I’m sure Nadia would approve—”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Amaryllis interrupts quietly.

Before Julian even has a chance to ask them to elaborate, a harsh knock sounds from the main door. His eyes dart to the clock. “It seems now is as late as Valdemar will allow me to be,” he sighs. But he makes no move to leave, instead pulling Amaryllis over top of him, wrapping his arms around their waist. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I had no idea,” Amaryllis teases, lifting their head just enough to bring their lips to his. The kiss is quick, chaste. “I love you, Ilya.” They kiss him again, and again and again and again, getting far more carried away than the two of them should be right now.

Amaryllis sits up, straddling his hips. Julian watches them carefully, reverently, as they take his hands in theirs, running them up their thighs and under their robe. “If only we had a little more time for me to show you exactly how much.”

“Must you tease me?” Julian whines, sitting up, reluctantly attempting to put some distance between them.

“Always.” They lean in for just one more kiss, still not wholly satisfied, determined to fit in as many as they can before he really has to go.

After a moment, Julian pulls away, resting his forehead against theirs. “I'm going to miss you.”

“It's just a week. You'll be back in my arms before you even know it.”

#one week turns into like. almost five years #whoops! #amieilya #amie fic #prompt asks #y-kant-ouiser-read